


It's About Time

by rightthewrites



Series: Perfect Lover [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Sam Winchester, Emotional, M/M, Miscarriage, Omega Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-10-05 17:06:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 108,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17329046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightthewrites/pseuds/rightthewrites
Summary: Dean and Cas have turned a corner and they both feel optimistic and a little giddy with what is to come. But things are never that simple, are they? Something is threatening to pull them apart again. The question is, will they let it? Either way, everything is about to be turned upside down. And not just for Dean and Castiel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, happy new year! I know what you're thinking; I did try for some months to write the end of "On the Other Side" but it was not happening for me and I was getting quite frustrated banging my head off of a wall so I needed to make progress somewhere. For those that have read "On the Other Side" please know that I'm not abandoning the story I just seem to be failing to connect with what I want to say and I'm sorry for how long it is taking. I promise I'm trying. Until then, please enjoy this next instalment!

Cas put his hands out to take the offered mug from her. “Thank you,” he said and then, after registering its temperature on his palms, rushed to put it down on the coffee table in front of him. “That’s very hot,” he muttered as he rubbed his hands on his pants to soothe them and sat down on the couch behind him.

“Sorry, did you want ice in your tea?” Meg ask with a smirk she also sat down in her new leather, high-backed armchair across from him. She reached to her end table and picked up her pad and pen before balancing the former on her knees and leaning her right elbow on the arm of her chair.

Cas glared at her and leaned forward in response to which Meg leaned backwards, putting her hand back on her pad to shift it as she crossed one knee over the other. Cas knew that it was to hide what she was writing from him and he exhaled.

“You know,” Cas said and she looked at him in interest as she clicked her pen, “I know you’re just doodling.”

She gave him a wry smile and then looked to the side, at the floor, before tapping her pen on her pad and then asking, “Did you have any difficulties getting through?”

Cas’ eyes narrowed a little while her eyes moved to her pants and she picked off a piece of fluff before extending her left hand to the side and dropping it in the air and allowing it to fall to the floor.

“Are we really going to discuss the traffic?” Cas asked, aware that she was referring to the accident two streets away that meant that the street was inaccessible by traffic; the whole situation was made worse by the one way system that meant Cas had to drive halfway to his office before he could make his way back to hers.

She shrugged, seemingly disinterested. “Unless you have something else you wish to discuss, Mr Novak.”

He paused and waited for her eyes to lift to his; they were blank and impassive.

“Meg, what are you doing?” She was reminded of how he struggled to understand social cues but she stared at him, determined that this was the one time he needed to learn on the job. “This uninterested attitude you’ve recently adopted…” She looked down guiltily. “Do you really not want to treat me _this_ much?”

It occurred to her that perhaps she was going to have to spell this one out after all, she had not meant to make him feel like a lost cause. So she dropped her knee, slowly to allow the pad to follow, and leaned forward, taking a long inhale and preparing to set it out for him.

“Okay,” she said with a slight nod, “here it is. Go your ears on, Clarence?” Cas paused and then nodded hesitantly, not entirely sure he wanted to know what had got her so anxious. As far as he could remember he’d never seen her anything other than cocky and he wasn’t sure which was more concerning. “You’re tighter than a nun on a Sunday.”

Cas' eyes relaxed in surprise and then he shook his head slightly. “Excuse me?”

She begrudgingly smiled. “I have been your therapist since you realized everything was going too far.” Cas looked uncomfortable. “Anyone would agree that considering chemical castration is too far,” she assured him.

He nodded with his eyes on his tea. “I know.”

“And it took three years-.” She lifted her hand, keeping her pen in between her thumb and index finger, and used her last three fingers to emphasize the number. “ _Three_ years to get you to tell me what happened in that elevator.” She lowered her hand. “Three years of talking about living in the home, running away, Gabriel, being adopted, juice cleanses, dreams-. Everything down to small things like building your garage-. Everything _but_ Samandriel before you’d go anywhere _near_ the subject.”

She watched pain and guilt and fatigue all cross Cas’ face and felt shame in what she’d said but resolve in knowing that she couldn’t back out now; he _needed_ to hear this. He needed to work through it or he’d be stuck on the same one way system they had been on for those three years.

She decided to go straight for the crotch-shot.

“You need to talk about Dean.” Cas felt panic burst in his chest. “I want us to talk about Dean. But your track record tells me that we’ll have to wade through literally everything else before we get there. Including the traffic.”

Cas pursed his lips and rubbed his hands together nervously, feeling the heat immediately spark from the friction. “The idea of talking about this makes me anxious. Probably more anxious than I’ve ever been.”

Meg paused for a second, not being prepared for that small add-on confession. “Why do you think that is?”

“Because-,” She kept her stare on him and his eyes lifted to hers. “I don’t know.”

“Is it the idea of speaking about what’s happened or how you feel?”

She expected Cas to mill over the question, perhaps attempt to answer it but ultimately sidestep it.

However, Cas barely hesitated before he answered, “How I feel,” with a nod. “But I _need_ to talk about it.” Meg’s eyebrow raised in surprise and Cas caught it. “I do. Not talking about what happened with Samandriel and how it made me feel ruined my life.”

“Ruined your life how?” she asked, shifting in her seat.

“Well, I became terrified of my presentation, of what it meant that I was capable of, I changed my entire life, my behaviour, everything about myself. I know _now_ that that didn’t help me, that it wasn’t healthy, that it was anything but. And-,”

Meg closed her eyes, trying to understand and opened her mouth as she leaned forward.

“- I don’t want to ruin what I have or _could_ have with Dean so I need to talk-.”

“I’m sorry,” Meg interrupted, making Cas look at her and cease talking immediately and briefly raised her hand to face-height in apology.

When she didn’t then elaborate Cas hesitated before he prompted her with, “Yes?”

She looked up at him, her eyes open and focused on him as she enunciated each word she said. “You know now that all of that wasn’t healthy?”

Cas slowly nodded once. “Yes,” he said.

Her face seemed to change to annoyance as she looked to the table and said, “I’ve been trying to get you to see that for nine years…” She paused, her brain almost frozen in confusion and then exhaled when she looked back to him. “What brought this revelation on so suddenly?”

“Dean helped me see it. Not just that, he made me _want_ to see it,” Cas explained as if it were so simple.

Meg scoffed softly to herself in response to the matter-of-fact way he’d said it. “I need to meet this miracle of a man who is making the breakthroughs in a year that I can’t in nearly a decade.”

Cas smiled and leaned forward, he put a cautious hand to the side of his cup and then, deeming it cool enough, curled both hands around it to pick it up. He then lifted it up while dipping his head to blow on the surface of the liquid before tasting it. As he did so his eyes rested on the candle on the otherwise bare table in between them and he thought about the candles on Dean’s kitchen table. He remembered eating with him, holding his hand, and kissing him the last time they saw each other; which had to be just over two months ago and it felt like forever. He specifically remembered kissing him goodbye and he smiled.

“What?” Meg asked and Cas, coming out of his reverie, looked to her questioningly. “You smiled again, what were you thinking of?”

Cas swallowed his mouthful of tea and looked away embarrassed. “The last time I saw him,” he admitted.

“When was that?” Meg asked.

“Two months ago,” Cas said, settling his cup in his hands on his knee.

She rolled her eyes. “Wow, stop it, you’re bowling me over with information,” she replied flatly. Cas just stared at her confused. “Sarcasm, genius.”

“You’re very mean for a therapist,” Cas said.

“No, I’m just honest. I’m not here to baby you, I’m your therapist not your mother.”

“No,” Cas agreed, “my mother wasn’t mean.”

She huffed and shook her head. “Okay, would you like to begin your session now that we’re twenty minutes in?” Cas tilted his head with a small smile, conceding the point. “Let’s start with when we spoke on the phone.” Cas nodded and took another drink before settling his cup on his opposite knee to distribute the heat. “That was about two months ago too, so I assume that was the last time you were at Dean’s?” Cas nodded again as he swallowed his tea. “Why was that? And don’t give me one word answers, you pay for this time, use it.”

Cas exhaled hard through his nose. “Fine. We had arranged during the last heat for me to turn up at his apartment on the date he had calculated his next heat would start. I had arranged the time off work but there were mistakes so I was called in to fix one report and fill in during a meeting and as soon as I was there everything snowballed until it was evening and I had to rush away while I could.”

“So, you were supposed to arrive early and you were late?”

“Well, we didn’t exactly say what time,” Cas excused.

“And he received this news well?” Cas just looked at her. “When you called him?” she elaborated.

“I didn’t call him,” Cas said. “It was one problem after another. I was on the telephone to level three while filling in a report for the _Pollock_ account as well as dealing with mistakes on two other reports and the math from-.”

“Are you sure that’s the reason?” He looked at her and she raised her eyebrows. “You’re the one who said he wanted to talk about this, are you just going to lie the entire time?”

He looked away. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell the truth,” she said. He bowed his head, put his right hand to his forehead and then turned his head to the side enough to look at her without taking his hand from his forehead. “Why didn’t you call him?”

“Because, what if-?” He stopped.

“What if-?” she mimicked.

“I’m not paying you just to repeat what I say,” Cas sniped.

“Go on,” she urged, seeing it for the defence it was. “What if what?”

Cas hesitated and closed his eyes before he looked to her. “What if he didn’t care?” he said, his voice soft and wavering, betraying his anxiety. “What if he didn’t want to wait for me?”

She crossed her leg and automatically put her hand on her pad to settle it there but it was purely a reflex action, learned and ingrained from over fifteen years of hosting therapy sessions and she had completely forgotten the paper and pen or why they were there; she had decided that rather than risk breaking whatever spell was currently persuading her most infuriating patient into facing some home truths by making him aware that he was actively making progress and how big of a deal that was, she would just have to rely on her memory and make notes later. She didn’t think it would be that difficult to recreate her findings at a later time: people seldom forget witnessing miracles.

“You were worried that he’d find another alpha?” she clarified.

“Or return to taking his suppressors again,” Cas added. “So when I did eventually get there and he wasn’t in cycle yet I was convinced that he’d started another course of them.”

“And had he?”

“No.” Cas shook his head twice. “Although he had started taking _Xanax_ so I’m not sure if that contributed to this heat failing to show up.”

“It didn’t start at all?” she asked and Cas shook his head as he took another drink. He didn’t wait before he swallowed the mouthful and took another before lowering his hands and milling it over in his mouth, enjoying the warmth on his tongue as the heat from the previous mouthful faded from his oesophagus. “But you didn’t leave until…?”

“The next Saturday,” Cas confirmed. “When it was obvious it wasn’t turning up and I had to, I had presentations and reports to finish for Monday.”

“So, you _only_ left, after eight days without any indication of his heat showing up, because you _had_ to?”

Cas opened his mouth and closed it again before he said, “Yes.” He knew what she was going to ask and so he didn’t wait and answered before she’d even drawn breath to ask it. “Yes,” he said again and she looked at him, “I would have stayed there with him if I could have.”

She sat back against the chair again, her right hand rested against the still blank pad, and regarded him with a curiosity he had never seen on her face before. It was as if he were something exotic and confusing that she had never previously encountered.

“You want the truth,” Cas said, by way of explanation, “and you’re right; it’s about time. Additionally, I need to give it. So here it is.” Cas paused before he nodded. “I miss him every moment that I’m not with him. The week I spend with him is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time.”

“Since when?” she asked, testing this new found honesty and its limits.

“Since I was adopted,” Cas answered without hesitation.

She stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. “That was very honest and a little heart-breaking. Do I read into that that Dean makes you very happy or that you have not been happy for most of your life?”

Cas considered the answer and then nodded. “Both,” he stated. “I _was_ happy living with my parents but the way I feel when I’m with Dean is a different sort of happiness.”

“Do you think you would be able to word the difference?” she asked.

Cas bit his bottom lip and while he looked around her office and tried to think. There wasn’t much in the office but a desk that was bare except for a laptop and file, both closed; a filing cabinet in the corner, the drawers of which weren’t labelled on the outside; a leather office chair that looked like it cost more than the construction of Cas’ entire garage and perhaps everything inside it. The couch he was sitting was a dark leather but had almost zero padding and as a result was as comfortable as a sidewalk. He reached his right hand out and squeezed one of the mustard cushions there as he spoke:

“When I was adopted I struggled to believe it was actually happening. I’d had my hopes raised so many times, I had watched younger children come in and leave again, some came back and some did not. In the end, Lucifer aged out and it was just Gabriel and I left. We had resigned ourselves to aging out and then suddenly I was fostered. I expected to be back within the week and when that didn’t happen I didn’t expect to last the month. But they adopted me.”

“When did you run away?”

“The day they told me,” Cas said. “I ran back to the home.”

“You’ve never told me where you went before,” Meg said, somewhat shocked at how easily it seemed to roll off of his tongue.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” Cas amended. “Not even my parents. Gabriel is the only other person who knows where I went because I woke him up in the middle of the night.” His face tensed in pain as he remembered. “He was in my bed.”

“Did he say why?” Cas shook his head. “Why do you think that was?”

“I don’t know,” Cas said. “He didn’t like the window bed, he said the light kept him awake.” He shrugged. “It made no sense, why would he then move to the window bed?” He shrugged again as if answering himself. “He wasn’t happy to see me at all.” He shook his head. “He was angry, _so_ angry. I don’t know what I had done but he said that sneaking out at night was a sure-fire way to get my adoption revoked. He told me to go back to my family. I protested, said that _he_ was my family,” Cas wiped a tear from his eye quickly, understanding why Dean might not want to let them fall, “that maybe he could come with me. He seemed to soften at that and his voice was less harsh but his words still cut. He said we weren’t family at all, that we were just a unit, a garrison, and that I should run for cover. He even promised that I’d see him again, when he aged out.”

“Did you?” Meg asked, aware that Cas had never shown any real emotion in sessions before; everything had been a statement. Even when he had been describing what had gone on with Samandriel there was definite fear and shame there but he’d masked it under a matter-of-fact, flat voice. She daren’t reach to offer him a tissue in case she spooked him.

Cas remained unresponsive for at least ten seconds before he said, very quietly, “No.” He then shook his head. “I went back to visit a few months later, a few days before his birthday, and he’d ran away.”

“Didn’t you say that he thought that was throwing in the towel?”

“Yes,” Cas said, his face more hurt than confused. “I still don’t understand it.”

Meg considered not saying anything but it had been years and maybe he’d never get it so, in light of his honesty, she decided to gift him something back.

“Well,” she said and leaned forward as Cas looked up to her, “I might be able to enlighten you.” Cas looked interested and slightly confused by her offer. “You said that it was just the two of you out of the old guard left and then you were adopted. I think he only stayed because you helped him.”

“But he helped the younger boys?”

“You _both_ did. When you helped them, did it make not being adopted easier?”

Cas considered it. “Yes, I suppose it did,” he said. “At least until they were adopted and then it became difficult again.”

“Did Gabriel make the whole thing easier?”

“Definitely,” Cas assured.

“So, do you think it might be safe to guess that perhaps your presence made it easier for Gabriel to deal with life in the home?”

Cas thought about the early days when they’d sit in the tree and talk, they’d teach the younger children football and build dens for the scared kids. The kids that had moved up from the nursery in the home sometimes struggled to deal with the decrease in independent attention and he and Gabriel picked up the slack.

“I never thought about it before,” Cas admitted quietly.

“You never considered for one moment that you meant something to Gabriel?” she asked.

She watched Castiel’s eyes drop from hers to the table in between them and his eyes twitched as he ran through his memories. Not once had Gabriel said anything to indicate that Cas meant anything to him. Meg could even see this in Castiel’s expression but she was almost completely certain he had conveyed it in some way that Castiel had completely missed.

“He didn’t say anything?” she asked and Cas shook his head. “He didn’t show any endearment towards you; a hug, sharing intimate stories or even a cheesy nickname?”

Cas shook his head again. “He only ever called me ‘bro’.”

Meg smiled slightly. “Did he call anyone else that?”

Cas thought back and then shook his head. “No,” he answered but failed to grasp the meaning. Before she could point it out Cas continued, “I thought he was just trying to soften the blow really.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we were like the parents of the dorm until I was moved to A-Block.”

“What’s that?”

Cas looked uncomfortable but resigned as he lifted the tea to his mouth, pausing before he drank to say, “Where the alphas were moved when they showed signs of presenting.”

“You were moved away from the other kids?”

Cas nodded as he swallowed his mouthful of cooling tea. “Yes,” he said. “It shouldn’t surprise you. Alphas are schooled apart from the others, hospitalised, housed separate. It’s life. Alphas are kept away from omegas. Not betas, society doesn’t seem to care about betas,” he mused. “But alphas are dangerous aren’t we? Animals. Gasrics.” Meg’s eyes hardened, she recognised that word, everyone did; it wasn’t something you usually heard in polite company. “Lucifer was another alpha in our home although we were very different, even growing up. He was less concerned with the other boys’ welfare and more with being seen as in charge. However, he was seen as unorthodox in that he required consent.”

“So he respected when he was told no?”

Cas scoffed. “Respected? No. Some people aren’t happy taking what they want, they want it to be given willingly.” Cas thought about Benny. “Some people like a different brand of torture. He wouldn’t touch another being without their consent but when he wasn’t granted it he knew how to make them regret it.” He shook his head, his mind far in the past. “We tried to help, to control the situation somewhat but we were children, there’s only so much we can do and the nuns were no help.”

“Let me ask you this,” Meg started, bring Cas out of the past, “do you think that it may be possible that, on some level, you abstained to cancel out some of the entitled and harmful alpha behaviours you were witness to while growing up? A penance of some sort.”

Cas looked down and remained quiet.

“Think back to the very moment that you looked in to that mirror and saw Samandriel’s face,” Cas closed his eyes and Meg took in every detail she could, noting how hard he was trying to conceal obvious emotion and actually struggled herself to pinpoint what emotion that was. It was unusual for her to not be able to read her patient’s emotions but she reminded herself that it was also unusual for Castiel to show any. “How did you feel, what made you step away from him?”

Cas swallowed, feeling panic rising up in his throat as he was transported back to that day again. “I didn’t step away from him,” he said. “I ran, as fast as my legs would carry me because I was terrified. I was disgusted and horrified. I didn’t want to become the stereotypical alpha that society was so afraid of and yet so accommodating to. I had convinced myself that I was different, that I would never become like-” He stopped dead and opened his eyes to look up at her, an expression of sudden astonishment on his face.

“Like Lucifer?” Meg finished for him, with a smirk on her face like she had lead him down a garden path. She watched his face contort through an assortment of emotions; confusion, denial, realisation, anger and probably a lot more that he wasn’t aware of just yet but would riffle through at three in the morning or during the morning commute. “And what about Dean?” He slowly looked back to her. “You said that, with Dean, it was a different kind of happiness to when you were adopted.”

She watched his eyes go back to the table and his shock melt and then morph into a smile. “It is.” He nodded and looked up to her fully aware that she saw him smiling. “being adopted was as if someone was telling me that I was worth saving but Dean-” He smiled wider and shrugged a little. “Dean makes me feel like I’m worth a _lot_ more than that.”

“Is this the first time in your life you’ve felt that?”

Cas nodded. “It’s the first time I’ve felt like I’m worth so much.”

“Is it a good feeling?”

Cas paused and looked to her. “It’s a scary feeling. Suddenly I have so much to lose, not just in him but in myself.” He hesitated, looking at her. “But it  _is_ a good feeling too.”

She nodded, aware that she would usually write down notes at this point. She knew that this would be a major breakthrough for any patient but for Castiel it was especially poignant. However, the look in his eye held her attention; she knew there was more to come here and she did not want to risk looking away, risk breaking that stare and whatever process was going on inside that man’s head.

“What happened the night you called me?” she asked instead.

“I've already told you.”

“Tell me again,” she urged, feeling like she might get more from this version of Castiel.

He sighed, put the mug down on the coffee table and leaned back in his seat. “Sam called through the door so I went into the bedroom.”

“What had you been doing before that?”

“We were-.” An image entered Cas’ mind but he pushed it away, he didn’t need those memories right now. “We were talking in the bathroom,” he lied.

Meg’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and he knew that she was not convinced. “Before that?” she pushed.

“Um…” Cas said, looking at his hands as he rubbed them together awkwardly. “We-. It’s not of import.”

She smiled. “You were having sex, weren’t you?”

“No,” he said and she arched an eyebrow disbelievingly. “Something else,” he mumbled.

She nodded knowingly. “So you did _something else_ and then hid in Dean’s bedroom. What then?”

“He and his brother conversed about another hunter and then his brother asked if he’d called a number that he had been given after flirting with someone they'd encountered on a job. Then Sam left.”

“So, Dean flirted with someone and this person gave Dean their number as a result?” Cas nodded. “Did he ask for the number?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he call them?”

“I don’t know,” Cas repeated.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Cas replied.

“And you didn’t ask?”

“No,” Cas repeated.

“Even after you heard Sam mention it?”

“Why would I?” Cas inquired. “It’s none of my business.”

“So it didn’t bother you,” she swiped her hand in the air, “at all?”

Cas chewed over the situation. “It pissed me off.”

“Why is that?”

“I told you, I felt replaceable.”

“Yet, _still_ , you didn’t ask?”

“It was none of my business,” Cas said again. “Dean wasn’t mine, if he wants to-.”

She waved her hand in the air. “Whoa, whoa,” she said, her eyes briefly closed and Cas looked to her. “Was?” He stared as she looking at him. “Wasn’t?” Cas’ brow pulled in and she read it as miscomprehension. “It _was_ none of your business. Dean _wasn’t_ yours. Is that past tense?”

“It happened in the past-.”

“You know what I’m asking you, Clarence,” Meg stated, flatly.

Cas hesitated before he said, “Things have changed, I think.”

“You think?”

Meg was taken mildly by surprised when Cas loudly grunted in frustration. “What story do you want me to tell?”

She wasn’t used to him snapping in any way, she was used to Castiel Novak, the accountant whose house she imagined to be as immaculate as his nails were. Yet she was almost certain that if she was to take a closer look at his hands she’d find many more tells there than the monthly manicures. From what Cas had told her over the years, about his hobby of working with wood she guessed his hands would be rough and tanned. She was used to a man whose life was so regular his hair had never been different in nearly a decade, there was never a rip in his suit or a scuff on his shoes. She was used to a man who closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled, and was in control.

But then again she was used to stoned-faced Castiel Novak who never said how he was feeling. So, she shifted, nodded, and said, “Continue.”

She took this opportunity to lift her pen to her pad and began making notes, subtly reminding him what she was there for. She wanted to write down everything before she had the vaguest chance to forget but took her time, aware that Cas was watching the low, smooth movements of her pen over the paper and she felt his eyes as they lifted back to her face. She looked at the words she was writing, refusing to look at him until she was ready. She wanted to lift her free hand to her necklace, although she wasn’t aware of the itch for the reflex, but she purposely didn’t move just to make a point.

Cas swallowed and she could hear him inhale and exhale however this time he wasn’t back in control, at least not in the same way, this time he spoke, “I didn’t like that it pissed me off, I didn’t feel like I had any right,” Meg stopped writing and looked up, “so I got angry and decided to leave.”

“Just leave?” She was worried that Cas would pull away from the question but also felt that it was a fair question to ask and one she knew – by his answer – he’d asked himself.

“No,” he said and shook his head before he paused and then nodded once, “I was running away.” He shrugged. “Again. Just like I always do.” Meg’s eyes sharpened and she slowly rested her hand on the pad with no intention of writing again. “I felt like Dean meant more to me than I meant to him and I did what I always do – like I said – I ran away."

Meg’s mind was still racing; they were making more breakthroughs in the past few minutes than they had in the entire near-decade they’d been working together and it threatened to overwhelm her. She was not a person who was easily overwhelmed but she felt the balance of control tipping; patients are supposed to feel in control all of the time when the truth is that her pad and pen were not her only tools, she was constantly assessing and steering the session. Sometimes she took each session as a stand-alone and sometimes she had to consider the long game. But sitting there she wasn’t entirely sure she was in control anymore and the unnerving thing was that she didn’t think Cas had the control either. Dean was tipping the scales here and he wasn’t even in the room.

“How did Dean react to you running away?”

“He got mad and shoved me into a door,” Cas stated, matter of fact.

She froze and then leaned forward, unblinking. “He hit you?”

“No,” Cas said and she looked confused. “I was leaving, walking in front of him, and he shoved me in the back, I stumbled forward and into the door. It’s fine,” she raised her eyebrows and shook her head, ready to argue otherwise but he put his hand up, “we dealt with it. We didn’t ignore it, we talked through it.”

“You talked?”

Cas nodded. “We didn’t excuse it. We established that he has never been taught how to deal with his emotions and got frustrated. He had an abusive childhood and he was never allowed to express himself. He knows that’s not an excuse, we weren’t excusing it, he knows what he did, I know what he did and we both know why. We both decided we can get passed it.”

“You both discussed this?”

“Yes,” Cas said. “Not as soon as it happened, later.”

Meg inhaled and sat back in the chair before making a quick note on her pad because she felt that they’d have to discuss it in more detail later. She exhaled before she looked up at him, pointing her pen into the paper at the question mark next to the question ‘is this relationship healthy?’. “Okay, so, you left Dean’s upset,” Cas nodded, “you drove around and then you called me. Then what?”

“I got food and drove back to Dean’s,” Cas said, again matter of fact.

“You brought dinner back to Dean’s apartment right after I spoke to you?” Cas nodded again, he instinctively put his hand out for his cup and finding the sides cold he withdrew his hand. Meg didn’t offer him more because she felt that this was too important to interrupt. “How many times have you ran away before?”

Cas blew out through his mouth and shook his head from side to side three times. “Too many to count.”

“And how many times have you gone back before?” She raised her eyebrows. “Willingly.”

“Once,” Cas replied with a nod. “I went back to my adoptive parents and I went back to Dean.”

Meg let her pen lie flat on her pad and lifted her hand to her necklace. “What were you thinking when you when back to Dean’s?”

“I wanted to talk about it. I didn’t want to run away this time. I wanted to sit down and talk like a normal lycan being, just eat dinner and explain to him why I’d left, what I was feeling. I wanted him to tell me what he felt and talk about what he did.”

“And did you?”

“Eventually,” Cas said and she saw his jaw tighten.

Her eyes narrowed when she noticed his look harden. “What happened?”

“When I returned I was walking up to the landing and it became evident that Dean had a visitor. I poked my head out and saw Dean pointing a gun over his threshold at Amara’s face.” Meg looked the most shocked Cas had ever seen her. “It became evident that she was not completely satisfied with the answer she had received on the previous occasions.” He rubbed his face, seeing Dean’s steady hand extended out as he stepped forward into Cas’ view.

“Is she the reason he is now on _Xanax_?”

Cas shook his head, she watched his lips purse out and – if it was possible – his jaw tighten further. “That would be Benny’s doing.”

Her features tensed. “Who is Benny?”

Cas inhaled and exhaled, this time it was weary rather than to regain control. “A story for another day.”

Meg nodded to herself as she decided that, after everything he’d shared so far, she could let that one go. “So Dean had a gun pointed at Amara, then what?” She scribbled ‘Benny’ on the pad underneath her question.

“She took it and ran.”

“She wrestled him for the gun?”

“No, he was surprised by my return, so much so that he turned his attention to me and she took advantage of that, plucking the gun from him as easy as if he had been made of wax.”

“Why do you think that he was so surprised to see you?”

“I don’t know,” Cas replied. “Is that important?”

“Well, Dean is a man who works with guns. He has to have his wits about him sufficiently to be an omega, with a gun, chasing sex offenders for a living.” Cas nodded. “But he was so surprised by your return that he took his attention away from a woman who has almost forced herself on him and has been targeting him ever since for long enough to not only let her grab his gun but as easy as if he were made of wax. That’s what you said.”

“I just meant they didn’t have to fight over it, no one was hurt.”

“My point stands,” she said. “He didn’t expect you to come back and he’s trained to expect – and fight – the unexpected.”

Cas lowered his eyes. “Do you think that means that he didn’t want me to return?”

Meg shook her head. “I don’t think that at all. I think that he’s very insecure; he didn’t expect you to come back, not because he didn’t want you to, but because he perhaps didn’t think that he deserved you to. Whether that’s because he shoved you or for another reason I really can’t say.”

There was a silence and Meg could see Cas digesting her words and thinking about them in relation to the man he knows. “He doesn’t think much of himself,” Cas agreed. “He doesn’t see himself the way that I do.”

“How do you see him?”

Cas fell silent; that was too much to admit.

Meg refused to let this one go. “How do you see him, Castiel?”

“I-.” Cas’ words ceased in his mouth.

Meg decided to try and different angle. “Why did you go back for him?”

Cas swallowed and Meg saw the nausea in his face. “Because I didn’t want to lose him again,” Cas said, his voice rushed and uneven. “I lost him seven years ago.”

“Did you?” Meg prompted.

Cas nodded, looking to the side and blinking away tears. “Yeah,” he whispered and nodded again before he looked to her. “I may not have realised it at the time because I was so scared of acting like an alpha, not because I didn’t want him in my life. I know that now. And now I-.” Cas clamped his mouth closed and then slowly closed his eyes before letting his head drop slightly.

“What?” Meg pushed, leaning forward a little. “Now you what?” Cas swallowed so hard that Meg could hear it. “Come on, Clarence. Don’t quit on me now.” He opened his eyes to look at her and only then did she see the tear on his cheek. However his eyes were dry and it was clearly overspill from the emotion he briefly felt before. “Just say it,” she said, almost tauntingly.

He looked down again. “When we started it was about-, I convinced myself that it was about helping him out but it wasn’t, it was about having him in my life and then to _keep_ him in my life I had to confront everything I’d been ignoring. All of the alpha stuff-.”

“ _All_ of it?” she interrupted.

Cas tilted his head. “Maybe not all of it but at the time it felt like it was all of it. Every time I confront something new it feels like all of it, it feels like surely there can’t be anything else.”

“But you confronted it?” she said, keeping him on track.

“I’m still confronting it,” Cas amended.

“But that doesn’t scare you?”

“Of course it does,” Cas answered. “But I’m not doing it alone and now I think that I’m up to the task. Dean makes me feel able to confront it and I’m certain that we’ll turn all of our issues and problems and revelations into something…” He paused, smiling at what that word meant to him now.

“Something?” Meg prompted.

Cas looked at her, still smiling. “Just… something.”

“You said things have changed, how so?” she asked, choosing to come back to that something, again making a note.

“We managed to talk about what we were doing and came to an understanding.”

Meg considered how to proceed. Everything she’d ever learned ran through her head and, knowing that Castiel Novak was anything _but_ textbook, she ignored it all. Anyone else might consider his matter of fact answers as delaying tactics of defensive but she knew better. So, she waded right into the deep pool.

“And what was this understanding?”

“We realized that while we’d agreed to be-,” Cas used air-quotes, “- _friends with benefits_ the situation had definitely changed.” He paused. “But I don’t think that that is correct.” He didn’t wait for prompting this time. “I think that it was _us_ that changed.” Meg opened her mouth but Cas continued, “I think we’ve helped each other arrive at a place where we are ready for something more.” He shook his head again. “That’s not _right_. It’s almost there but it’s-.” He stopped, searching for a way to word it.

Meg watched him patiently; it was nearly a minute before his features suddenly smoothed out. “Now?” she asked.

He looked up to her half surprised that she knew and half in shock of what he’d found.

“I can only speak for myself however…” She nodded in understanding and encouragement, almost begging him not to back out now. “Dean didn’t help me to a place where I was ready for more. I wanted Dean so it was him I was ready for, him that I _needed_ to be ready for or I’d lose him.”

“You’re saying that in order to keep Dean in your life you had to face up to some home truths?”

Cas nodded fervently. “I may not have been ready or wanted to but it was either that or lose him.”

Meg played with her necklace for ten whole seconds – Cas counted – and then immediately dropped it as quick as she leaned forward. She leaned forward more than she ever had before, she even put her hand on the table and brought her face right to Cas’, making him look at her with severe confusion on his face as he sat up and moved back a few inches.

Her eyes searched his for three more seconds before she asked, “Are you in love with him?”

The shock that Cas felt by the question showed in the way that his eyes widened and the momentary cessation of breathing. “I-,”he said and stopped again. Her eyes suddenly dropped and she leaned back as he lifted his left hand to his forehead. She could tell that this was one step too far and she slowly lowered back to her chair. It wasn’t until she sat back down that she realised that, while he wasn’t answering the question, he also wasn’t changing the subject. This wasn’t a subject he wasn’t willing to work through it was just that he didn’t know how to right now.

She tried a different tactic. “Do you think that you _could_ fall in love him?” she asked, trying to soften her voice and make it sound like a gentle request rather than a demand.

Cas lowered his hand at the same time as he lifted his head to look right at her. He decided, looking at her expectant face – one that he’d seen change over the past near-decade – with infinite patience and decided that, for all she had done for him, he had one more truth in him today.

“Undoubtedly,” he said with a nod.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stresses of life are getting to the pair but perhaps that's the best way to take 'something' for a test drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably too long but a lot happens. In particular Dean is about to be faced with the dangers of being an omega hunter who goes after sex-crime fugitives. Read with caution, it was hard to write.

Just over a week after Cas’ appointment Dean was pulling up at the rear of a garage.

His heat hadn’t turned up and to take his mind off of it he’d barely stopped working to breathe and, to add to everything, he was unsure when to expect his illusive period so was on edge with every feeling of movement in his underpants, anxious that that was it.

He pulled his car to a stop into an alley behind the garage he’d been looking for and sighed, strung out. He picked up the rap sheet to remind himself.

“Let’s see this jackass,” Dean said as he unfolded the paper. “Alastair Zorel forty-four years old, alpha, six-foot-four, hundred-ninety-five pounds-.” He paused, looked up briefly and nodded to himself. “I can take him.” He looked back to the sheet. “Slim build, brown hair, no known disabilities-.” His eyes scanned the employment section of the document. “Walmart, army training, good to know.” He nodded to himself and moved to the charges. “Assault, assault with intent.” He nodded as he read what he’d expected. “Sexual assault, rape, sexual assault-.”

He stopped as it had a small number beside it so he turned the page over and found a footnote at the bottom of the last page.

Once he’d located the corresponding number he began reading it out loud to himself as if the sentence had not been interrupted, “Penetration of-.” He stopped again and lifted his hand, putting the back of his fingers to his lips as nausea began to rise up. He then turned it around and pulled it into a fist, pushing it back against his lips. He exhaled forcefully. “Penetration of the vagina with a pool cue left the victim with internal injuries requiring surgeries to date.” He flipped the pages back to the charge sheet and looked at the date of arrest and then had to close his throat as the nausea got worse. “Fourteen months ago.”

He took one long look at the mug shot to memorise his face. He then closed the folder and looked to the garage before he lowered his hand and ground his teeth, pushing the nausea away. “Time to go to jail, asshat.”

He was conscious of how quiet the neighbourhood was, it seemed that all the children were in school, everyone was at work and the day was well underway. Dean’s experience told him one thing: a quiet neighbourhood was a dangerous one. The thing that bounty hunters, cops and drug dealers have in common is that they learn how to be silent in everything they do. Fugitives from the law (and other drug dealers) are aware that, at any moment, someone could come crashing in the door and turn everything upside down. So, Dean dumped the folder back on the passenger seat and pulled the lock on his door inward before slowly opening it, knowing that it wasn’t the opening the car door that was a problem but the closing it.

He stood up out of the car and then carefully closed his door, wincing as he did so. That discomfort on his face disappeared quickly when he managed not to make any noise. He took his gun out of its holder and checked it was loaded then put it back; since he was alone he might ordinarily draw his weapon and have it down by his side but he was aware that, in recent times, a man walking down a deserted alleyway with a gun at his side might draw unwanted attention and so he kept his clip open and double-checked his cuffs on his left, then pulled his leather jacket back over both of them. He walked to his trunk and quietly opened it; the suspect had no history of gun-related crime so as far as a bullet-proof vest was concerned Sam could bite him.

Dean took his leather jacket off and folded it before stuffing it in the side of the trunk. He picked up the new polyester jacket he had; it was navy blue and had ‘FRA’ in large, yellow letters on the back and small, like a badge, on the front. He looked down at it and considered if it would give him away or not. It was useful for anyone around to know the man possibly pointing a gun at the seemingly average and unarmed member of the public had a reason and the authority to do so. It was also good in case some helpful person called the cops and they came barrelling over ready to shoot first and ask later. He belatedly fished his FRA ID out of his jacket pocket and stuffed it inside his new jacket then fixed the badge on his belt for good measure before carefully clicking the trunk closed.

He cautiously approached the back entrance of the garage, choosing the back over the front to cut down the number of civilians that could get between Dean and his bail. He looked around the alley, squinting into the blinding sun of the hot, dry day. A dog barked somewhere far away and then stopped. As he rounded the end of the wall at the back of the garage he ducked his head around just enough to see the garage door rolled up and the concrete continue right through from the alleyway to the sidewalk except for a deep pit to the right over which a car Dean hadn’t seen before was suspended. There were stripped parts resting against the walls and drawers and a couple of faded oil spots on the concrete.

Dean only noticed this all out of the corner of his eyes because his attention went straight to the man who was dressed in dark overalls and lifting himself out of the pit. He lifted the tire lying on the floor onto its side and rolled it towards Dean who ducked back and then, a few seconds later, when Dean poked his head back out again he was rolling it away from Dean to a wall where he let it rest and wiped the back of his right hand to his forehead. It wasn’t exactly hard work but combined with the weather his shirt was stuck to his back while his combat trousers reminded Dean that some people never really leave the services.

He thought back to his childhood; his father never wore any kind of uniform remnant but you could find it elsewhere, such as in his haircut, the way he made his bed or the hour at which he woke up. Or his patience, or lack thereof.

Dean snapped back to himself and then tried to size the man up; he was the right build, had brown hair. He decided that this guy was most probably his suspect and so took a step forward and began what Dean calls the ‘boss fight’.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said as he stopped three steps from where he’d been watching. The man’s head lifted but he didn’t turn. “I’m looking for Alastair Zorel.”

The man straightened up but still didn’t turn as he replied, “Not here.”

Everything about the situation already told Dean that either he was on the right track or an invisible puppeteer had just pulled the man’s muscles tight, however the tension in the man’s voice made Dean put his right hand back and move his jacket out of the way so that he could put his hand on his gun. It was a peculiar voice, nasal and singsong, it made Dean’s spidey-senses tingle and his eyes dropped to the man’s hands, very aware that he’d not dropped them to his side.

This prompted Dean to take three quick, quiet steps towards the figure as he pulled his gun out of the holster and cocked it then levelled it at the back of his head. The man froze at the noise and sensation of someone right behind him. “Fugitive recovery agent, I have authority for the gun I’m pointing at your head,” Dean said and tilted his head. “But you already guessed all of that, huh, Alastair?”

The man chuckled and it sounded as unnatural to Dean’s ears as his voice, it made the hairs on the back of his arms stand up.

“You all sound exactly the same,” the man said, slowly.

“Hands on your hand, interlock your fingers,” Dean recited and was relieved when the man did just that, his movements were leisurely as if he were standing on a beach and regarding the horizon. “I’m going to cuff you,” Dean warned as he used his left hand to yank the cuffs from their holder on his belt. “Don’t panic, it’s purely because of the severity of your charges.” Dean lifted the cuff and, in one hit, hooked it around the man’s wrist and then tightened it with the same hand before grabbing the middle again.

That was when Dean felt Alastair tense up and begin to turn to his left. Dean, who had no free hands, kicked the back of his right knee and sent him down onto it. Dean opened his mouth to tell him not to move and remind him that there was a gun to the back of his head however he didn’t get a syllable out. The suspect pulled on his cuff and then elbowed Dean in the side, right in his most recent stab wound which – not ten weeks ago – Cas had cautiously touched with his finger tips and lips. The pain burst around the healing wound and Dean doubled over with a soft grunt and let go of his hold on his cuff. He lost his balance and, in his attempt not to pull the trigger on reflex, he stumbled and slid, landing on his left side beside the man and rolled onto his back. As he had hit the ground and rolled his grip on the gun loosened and flew from his hand, bounced and then slid along the concrete floor away from him.

Before Dean realised what had happened he came face to face with Alastair Zorel as he straddled Dean, bent his left arm across Dean’s throat who heard the cuff scrape along the floor beside his left ear. He exhaled as he smiled, looking down at Dean, leaning on his right hand. Dean was assessing the situation but couldn’t help but notice how tight his smile was, as if the skin on his face was pulled unnaturally taut so that the smile was stretching it too far, morphing it into something painful.

“Now…” he drawled. “When did hunters get so…?” He drew the last word out for a few seconds as he took in Dean’s features. “Pretty?”

Dean grunted, bearing his teeth as he tried to wriggle free but found the man’s arm and body immovable. Alastair chuckled, it wasn’t as deep as Dean had heard before but it seemed to escape his mouth like smoke as if detached from his body, and leaned down to inhale up Dean’s neck, making Dean try to pull away and shudder, closing his eyes tight.

Alastair leaned back and Dean opened his eyes, his jaw set defiantly, Dean watched his pupils dilate as he hummed then said, “An omega hunter?” His smile spread even tighter than Dean had thought possible and he didn’t like the expression on his face.

Dean felt the panic rise up in his throat. “Look man,” Dean said, his voice wobbling. “L-, let me go and I’ll-, I’ll walk away. I’ll bury the job and you can run.”

Alastair’s smile morphed as it became an open-lipped version. Dean could hear his saliva click as his lips parted and slid over his teeth and then there was that voice again; as singular and melodic as a child’s laughter in an abandoned insane asylum. And, if it were possible, Dean thought it seemed to get more and more nasal with every word. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Dean didn’t consciously understand why nausea began to grow deep down inside of him until he felt the man begin to tug at his jeans. The full horror of his situation dawned on Dean in the blink of an eye and he began frantically chanting, “no,” over and over again while he squirmed and tried with all of his might to move the arm holding him down by the throat as it threatened to cut off his air supply. For a brief moment he thought he’d succeeded but then the hand grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head back into the concrete.

Suddenly there was ringing in Dean’s ears, his vision blurred and the nausea seemed to explode in his gut. There was a momentary pressure on his right eye but he had no presence of mind to know what it was and it was gone as quick as it occurred. The world was tilting and going dark but it was a few seconds before Dean became aware that it was because Alastair had turned him on his front, his knees and elbows cold and sore on the floor. Somewhere in a dark corner of his mind he wondered if this is what it had felt like to Aaron in the moment that Benny launched his attack and then he wondered if being beaten to within an inch of his life would be preferable to being conscious; because whether he was on his back or his knees Dean knew what was happening or what would happen if he didn’t find a way out of this. If there even was a way out to be found. This situation was not under his control and he was painfully aware and not aware of that.

Then he felt his jeans starting to come down and he knew that as long as he was conscious he still had a chance, a chance that Aaron never had, and he was going to damn well take it.

“No,” he slurred and lifted his heavy head. His vision blurred more in response and there was intense pain behind his eyes but he forced them to fix on the only shape he could see; it was grey but the cream mixed in made it stand out from the concrete floor and it was just within arm’s reach. He tried to rouse his muscles to move while he heard Alastair’s belt falling open. That’s when his eyes snapped into focus and he could have sworn he heard his little brother’s voice scream in his ear: that’s your gun!

He dragged his right leg up under himself but Alastair pulled him back at the waist, in doing so he’d made it so that Dean’s feet rested against his upper legs. Dean felt air on his buttocks as his underwear was pulled down and he thanked any and all gods that he’d worn them because they’d given him a few vital extra seconds and now they were almost gone.

It was now or never.

He lifted up on his hands to reach out but Alastair pushed his hand down on the middle of Dean’s back and he fell back down onto his elbows. “Stop moving,” Alastair snapped with a growl to his voice that Dean shirked at.

Dean swallowed and went for it; he leaned forward and used his right foot to kick back, he didn’t care where he hit and wasn’t aiming, he just needed a couple of seconds.

He kicked hard and when it contacted with Alastair’s stomach he doubled forward. Dean was already kicking out again but as Alastair let go he slid forward making his boot hit Alastair in the chest. He fell back and hit his head on the concrete just as Dean grabbed his gun. He turned on his back and aimed it where he had expected Alastair to be leaning on his knees and snarling at Dean, not ready to give up without a fight. However, seeing him lying flat on his back clutching his head while groaning in pain Dean scrambled to his feet.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Dean asked and Alastair opened his eyes, freezing when he saw Dean aiming his gun. He sighed and tucked himself in before he sat up but Dean re-aimed the gun. “Don’t,” he said and Alastair’s eyes went to him before lifting his hands in the air. “Get on your stomach,” he ordered.

As much as he didn’t want to, Dean could not help but take in the man’s features; every single one of them could be described as sharp – his chin, ears and even the lines at the sides of his nose and mouth.

Dean’s ears were still ringing and he realised his underwear was still pulled down passed his crotch however he made no attempt to adjust them as he refused to allow the man in front of him see him uncomfortable. He felt pain on his face but he wasn’t quite sure what side it was on and yet he was definite that there was a pulse around his right eye.

Alastair hesitated and Dean got angry. “On your stomach!” he barked. He lowered the gun slightly to aim it at Zorel’s crotch. “Now, or I’ll do the world a favour.”

Alastair sighed as he rolled onto his front. “You’re asking for it, you know,” he said, his voice not as playful as it had been, now sharp and impatient.

Dean ignored him. “Hands out,” he demanded and nervously watched each hand come out noting that the cuff was still clasped around his left wrist. “Behind your back.”

Alastair exhaled furiously as he complied. “An omega hunter, you _have_ to know you’re asking for it.”

“I’m going to fix the cuffs, if you so much as hiccup it’ll be the last thing you do. Understand?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Louder!” Dean shouted.

“Yes, I understand!” Alastair spat back, saliva showering the floor.

Dean steadied himself, cautiously leaned down then held the free end of the cuff so that he could twist it around Alastair’s left wrist and angled it towards his right, there he paused, his eyes went to the man’s head and then his legs just to check for signs of confrontation before he closed it around his other wrist. He took a large step back, away from the suspect, and straightened up, recentreing the gun on his target.

“Stay there,” Dean ordered, his voice less panicked than it had been before he holstered his gun, leaving the clip open for easy access before he pulled out his cell phone.

“Let me up,” Alastair said through gritted teeth but Dean ignored him and dialled Ash.

Ash gave his familiar greeting of, _“Yo!”_ when he answered.

“Hey man, are you still at the bunker?” Dean asked, hopeful.

 _“Yep,”_ he said and the relief was evident on Dean’s face, _“what’s up?”_

“Can you do me a solid, grab a cage and get over here?”

 _“Got a live one?”_ he asked.

Dean looked down at the man who had chosen to rest his head on the ground. “Yeah, I’ll text you the address.”

 _“No problemo, won’t be long,”_ Ash said before hanging up.

Dean shot him a quick text of the garage’s address before he put his cell back in his pocket and fixed his pants.

“You’re just afraid,” Alastair said and tried to turn his head to look at Dean.

“Of you?” Dean scoffed but his chest trembled.

“That you might like it,” he said with a sneer.

“Is that what you really think?” Dean asked, looking down at him, his expression one of angry disbelief. “You really think that that’s what we like?”

“You’re supposed to,” Alastair said, the sing-song quality was creeping back into his voice. He spoke deliberately and soft, as if he were sitting in a chair by the fire telling an audience a fable rather than handcuffed and lying on his front. “You’re broken, do you know that?”

“Why?” Dean rounded him and focused on his face. “Because I don’t think I’m an object, a second-class citizen?”

Alastair strained his neck to look up at Dean. “Eve was born from Adam’s rib. A rib is lesser than the whole.”

“Clearly the part that houses compassion and restraint,” Dean shot back at him. “Quick question though; are you currently missing a rib?” Alastair merely looked to the floor. “Well, their sons were born with all of their ribs. And Cain went on to become the father of murder. Romulus, all his ribs, mated with a wolf.” He circled his hand. “Created us all, supposedly. Such role models.”

Alastair shook his head. “Eve was a whore, she created the original sin.”

“And Romulus was what, a bit of a lad?” Alastair sighed. “Isn’t it funny, you expect us to open our legs on command and yet when it’s of our own accord we’re whores. But not old Rommy. Besides, the apple? That was Adam’s sin.”

Alastair’s head shot up. “Blasphemy!”

“Truth!” Dean retorted. “God told Adam about the apple and Adam never opened his cakehole to Eve. She had no idea and he just let her do it, he wanted to see what would happen but instead of trying it himself he used her as a guinea pig. A human women being used by a human man, who would have thought it?”

“You’re not a woman,” Alastair said.

“Nothing gets passed you,” Dean pointed, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “What about Romulus luring his brother’s pet wolf in the dead of the night just for revenge? He used her.”

“What species are you talking about, humans or lycans?”

“The same principle applies,” Dean said. “God is referred to as male but he’s the alpha and omega. Unless he’s a male interpresentation.”

Alastair’s face became red. “You dare speak of the Lord and-.” Dean shrugged smugly and he stopped. “It wasn’t literal; all of us were made in his image and he is in-.”

“And you think that Eve mating with a snake was?” Dean asked with a derisive snort. “What part of the bible does it say that someone deserves to have something rammed into them?” The humour had gone from Dean’s face and voice.

Alastair suddenly became livid. “You dare to question me?”

“No,” Dean said with a shake of his head. “I’ll leave that to the police. I’m just killing time until the car comes to pick you up, buddy.”

“You know you would have enjoyed it,” Alastair reiterated. “A little bitch like you needs an alpha to keep them in line.”

“I have an alpha,” Dean said, his face setting in anger, “that I’m _with_. He doesn’t own me.”

“Then he’s broken as well,” Alastair said.

“No,” Dean said and lifted up as a black SUV turned into the front of the garage, “he’s doing it right, you’re the one that’s broken, Mr Zorel.”

Alastair shook his head and looked down as Ash got out of the car. Dean heaved Alastair to his feet and urged him to the car. Ash had brought a car with the backseat caged, separated by plexi-glass and wire mesh. It was to reinforce it and protect those in the front but, in truth, it was to remind them that they’d be behind bars soon. Ash opened the door and Dean led Alastair to it.

Alastair stopped just before it and looked at Dean who internally sighed and stared forward, refusing to give him any reaction, especially in front of Ash.

“You didn’t deny asking for it,” Alastair said.

“When someone is saying ‘no’ over and over, trust me, they’re not asking for it.” He nodded to himself. “There’s only one time anyone is asking for it.” He looked to him, his expression as flat as his voice. “When they _ask_ for it.” He nodded to the car. “Get in.”

“Is it a power kink?” Alastair asked making Dean exhale. “Putting alphas in handcuffs.”

“Get in or I’ll put you in,” Dean said.

Alastair smiled. “Maybe I’ll see you again,” he said with a wink.

“I hope not.”

“Oh, I think I will. When I get out.”

“You have to get in first,” Dean said and shoved him in the car before closing the door. He then turned to Ash. “Did you hear that?”

“Yep,” he said with a nod. “Put me down,” he added, referring to a form all bounty hunters filled in when threatened by a bail.

“Go ahead to Frank’s,” Dean nodded, “I have something I need to do first.”

Ash saluted, jumped in the driver’s seat and drove off without asking about the slight puff and purple tinge to Dean’s face.

Dean walked through the garage wondering if he should have got keys to lock up or a contact number. He turned as he came out at the back, to make sure the car was gone, and then leaned against the neighbouring fence just as a retch rushed out. He was truly surprised when nothing came up and it morphed into a shaky sob. He put his hand on the fence as he stumbled towards his car, he just wanted out of the area. He got in the driver’s seat, pulled out of the alley and felt himself begin to calm as he made his way towards the bail office, only a few cars behind the black SUV.

>><< 

Cas sat at his desk while Becky sat in front of him with a portfolio, there was a slim young man in the chair to her left who was typing on a calculator.

“So the quarterly net is…” Cas said and after a second of silence his eyes moved to Harry while Becky lifted her head and, after a glance at Cas, looked at Harry.

“Harry,” Becky muttered to which he hummed and then stopped typing before giggling to himself.

Becky looked at Castiel nervously and watched him lift his head to regard Harry properly. He reached his right hand across the desk while he said, “Mr Spengler.” Harry looked up but then immediately looked down again as Castiel took his calculator. He turned it around to read it and his features fell before Cas looked back at his newest assistant. “Boobs?!” he exclaimed and was horrified when Harry chuckled nervously but the young man looked to Becky as she exhaled angrily.

Cas tossed the calculator down on the desk, the sprawls of paper across the desk muffled the impact but both Harry and Becky jumped and their eyes went to it. It slid along the papers and fell from the desk onto the floor, Harry leaned down to retrieve it and smacked the side of his head off of Becky’s chair. She gasped and then watched him bounce back up with the force, he automatically put his right hand to his forehead before leaning down more carefully to pick it up from the floor.

“Are you okay?” Becky asked, leaning over to look at his forehead.

“Yeah,” Harry answered with a nod before slowly removing his hand to check for blood.

“That wouldn’t have happened if you had actually been working!” Cas said angrily.

“Or if you hadn’t thrown it down,” Harry mumbled.

Cas slammed his hands down on the desk, making Becky jump again, and stood up, looking down at Harry. “Really? I am trying to juggle eight accounts, consult on one more and finish a hand over. I have so much work I’ve been given an apprentice assistant. This is your first job in this industry yet you’ve chosen to spend it not listening and inputting stupid words-.”

“Boobs, stupid, really? Bit sexist,” Harry muttered and Becky’s eyes widened while she looked at Cas.

Cas’ eyes narrowed. “As I was saying! Instead of doing your job you have put untold effort into doing everything else and now you are blaming me.” He paused. “Is that really what is happening… _boy_?”

Harry opened his mouth and Becky shook her head. He stopped when Cas tilted his head, his eyes sharpening, daring him to say more.

“Sorry, sir,” Harry whispered.

Cas exhaled and let his head hang. “I need help,” he admitted and looked between them, Becky’s eyes morphing from cautious to worried. “I have been trying not to offload onto others but I am struggling here. While I should not be raising my voice, I need you here, working _with_ me. I have too much work and nothing is adding up!” He hit his hand off of a pile of papers.” He looked between them again. “Help me.”

Harry looked to Becky who nodded and when he sat forward so did she.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “Let’s crush this.”

Becky smiled and looked at Cas who exhaled and smiled.

“Thank you,” Cas said and sat back down in his seat.

A quick and loud knock rattled his office door and they all looked as it opened before Cas spoke.

“Sorry for bursting in,” the man said. The three sitting all recognised him and neither Cas nor Becky looked too pleased to see him. “Your secretary isn’t-.”

“As you can see, my _assistants_ are helping me,” Cas interrupted. “What can I help you with, Mr Brady?”

“Chuck’s going mental,” he said and Becky looked severely concerned.

“Why?” Castiel asked.

“No idea,” Brady said. “But everyone is being investigated.”

“What?!” the three of them said together.

“I don’t have the time to have everything checked,” Cas exclaimed and stood, lifted his hands to his head and closed his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Brady scoffed and left, closing the door behind him.

“You know,” Harry said as they turned back to Cas, “he’s a douche-nozzle.”

“Harry!” Becky admonished him.

“He’s right,” Cas said and they both looked at him. “He wasn’t doing us a favour, by law I have to be notified, everyone does.” Cas rested his hands on the desk and let his head hang, closing his eyes.

Harry leaned towards Castiel. “Sir, it’s okay, don’t give up. We’ll get it done.” He knocked his knuckle on the desk. “What do we need to do?” He pointed to Becky. “We need a list,” she nodded and pulled a notepad out from under the portfolio on the desk, “most important first.” She nodded as she turned over a fresh page and clicked her pen.

They both looked to Cas who had lifted his head. He looked between them; Becky was eager and smiling whereas Harry looked humbled and ready.

Cas exhaled. “Okay,” he said and shifted on his feet before nodding. “Okay,” he said again with more determination.

>><< 

It was evening when Dean lay on his bed in the bunker, right leg over left, listening to music through headphones. It was his way to try and block out the world but he knew that other hunters could rely on his help so his cell phone was on vibrate but also lying on his left thigh so that, if he didn’t hear it, he’d feel it.

That was exactly what he did when it lit up with a phone call. When he opened his eyes and looked down he didn’t expect to see ‘Cas’ on the screen. He pulled the headphones off and lifted the cell to look at it better.

He pressed the ‘answer’ button and put the cell to his ear. He inhaled, a little nervous at hearing Cas’ voice after so long, before he said, “Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” he said as he walked heavily to his car.

“What’s the word?” Dean asked.

“Uh…” Cas hesitated. “I’m not familiar with that phrase.”

Dean smiled weakly. “What’s up?”

“How have you been?” Cas asked, avoiding the question.

“I’ve-. I’ve been working a lot since I saw you,” Dean said, also not answering the question.

Cas reached his car and stopped by the passenger seat.

“Castiel?” Cas turned on the spot to see Samandriel a few steps away and Cas’ stomach lurched as he dreaded just what could have gone wrong at work. Samandriel slowed when he realised Cas was on his phone. “Could you hold on for one second, please, Dean?” Cas asked into his phone.

“Sure,” Dean said and Cas moved his mouth from the receiver.

“What’s wrong now?” Cas asked with a sigh and Dean idly listened.

“Nothing,” Samandriel replied and Cas’ eyes narrowed. “I, uh-.” He gestured to Cas’ phone. “I didn’t realise you were on a call.” He paused, as if waiting for Cas to hang up.

There was a silence.

“I can call you back?” Dean offered.

“No,” Cas stated firmly into the microphone and then looked back to Samandriel. “Was there something you needed, Samandriel?” Dean’s attention perked up.

“You don’t need to act like you don’t know me, Castiel,” Samandriel said, his voice sounded hurt.

“I don’t know you,” Castiel said. “I worked in the same building as you a long time ago. I knew your name and what floor you worked on. That Is not knowing someone. So, was there something you wanted because I would _really_ like to leave?”

Dean heard the strain and dislike in his voice and he wondered if he was being unduly harsh.

Samandriel managed to look like the little boy he’d left in the elevator all of those years ago. “No,” he said with a shake of his head.

Cas nodded once. “Good night,” he said and turned back to open the door, put his briefcase inside with his coat, closed the door and then looked back to him retreating as he walked around to the driver’s side.

He then turned his attention back to his cell phone. “I apologise, Dean,” he said.

“S’alright,” Dean answered, not convincing himself. He opened his mouth to ask about Samandriel but Cas bet him to it.

“The sooner this account handover is completed the better,” Cas said and got in the driver’s side of his car. “He makes me very uncomfortable.”

“Like how?” Dean asked as Cas closed his door.

“I feel like he’s always watching me,” Cas said. “It makes an already tense situation worse.”

“Sounds like you’re having a bad time,” Dean said, his brow dipping in worry and making the pain his face reignite.

“I am,” Cas agreed, pinching the bridge of his nose and Dean felt horrible hearing him admit it, his voice sounding tired and stretched. But then it changed to surprise when Cas added, “I wish I could see you.”

Dean’s eyebrows lifted and the idea floated through his head; it sounded like the best idea anyone had had in a long time. “Well…” he said. His brain was screaming out at him to just tell Cas that he wanted to see him too but instead he said, “I’m at the bunker.”

“Of course,” Cas said. “Ignore me, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I could give you directions,” Dean blurted out before he could stop himself.

Cas looked up. “What about Sam?” he asked.

“We’ll sneak you in,” Dean replied. “I sneak beer passed him all the time.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Not that that is the same thing, I’m not comparing you to beer-.” He sighed hard and added, “Please stay the night with me, is what I’m trying to say.”

There was another silence.

Cas smiled to himself. “I would like that,” he said.

Dean opened his eyes. “Really?” he asked.

Cas smiled wider. “Very much so,” he replied. “Have you eaten or would you like me to bring something with me?” Then Dean heard the smile in his voice. “And beer, perhaps?”

Dean laughed and Cas felt like it was the best sound he’d heard in a long time. “Food, beer, and you. Sounds perfect.”

“Yes, it does,” Cas agreed.

“I’ll text you directions,” Dean said.

“Okay,” Cas said with a nod. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed and they hung up.

Cas smiled as he started the engine but then his smile fell as the possibility that Dean might want sex entered his mind and he became anxious, ways to let him down gently running through his head.

He was so preoccupied that he failed to noticed Samandriel in his car, his arms on the wheel and his head in the crook of his elbow.

 

Cas text Dean to tell him that he was parked outside an unimpressive doorway that was set into the overgrowth. There was nothing around except warehouses and lorries parked up and driverless. Cas was worried that he was in the wrong place.

Dean could hear movement in the main map room so he went through the garage and out via the door next to the ramp. That meant that he came out down the road, through what looked like the entrance to an underground parking lot and he looked up the street to see Cas leaning against the side of the bonnet of his car holding a plastic bag and a pizza box. He was silloheted against the lights of distant downtown.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Dean muttered to himself as he walked towards him.

Despite the lights it was still dark this far into the industrial district so Dean wasn’t worried about Cas seeing his face and he knew when they got inside he just had to keep ahead of him. It was also completely abandoned out there and so Cas turned at just the sound of Dean walking towards him.

They smiled as soon as they saw each other.

“You brought pizza?” Dean asked as soon as they were close enough to hear each other and looked around briefly, Cas wondering why Dean had stopped so far away.

“Meat Feast,” Cas confirmed and Dean looked down when Cas gestured the bag in his hand. “Beer and pie.”

“Pie?” Dean said, unconsciously taking steps closer and Cas nodded. “I could kiss you.”

Cas’ eyes darted over his face and it was then that Dean realised what was different about him: he had his usual attire on – suit, trenchcoat – but he was missing his tie and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

“Yes,” Cas said and Dean’s brow dipped a little, “I guess you _could_.” Cas smirked shyly.

Dean smiled too, letting his tongue wet his lip as he stepped forward into Cas’ space – Cas moving the pizza box and bag out of the way – and used his hands on Cas’ hips to push him gently against the car as he kissed him.

“How’s that?” Dean asked, his lips barely a breath away from Cas’.

“Do it again,” Cas said.

“Again?”

“It’s a six pack of beer,” Cas said and Dean smiled again. “And cherry pie.”

“Cherry?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Cas confirmed.

Dean hummed. “Fair enough,” he replied and they smiled as they kissed. “That good?”

“Yes,” Cas said.

Dean stepped back, his hands slowly moving from his hips. “We should get in before that gets cold,” he said. “Gonna go in through the garage.” He gestured his head and Cas followed him.

“Why?” Cas asked as they approached a door.

“Some of the guys are in the main rooms and they’re like bloodhounds they’ll smell the pizza from miles away.” Cas smiled. “So we’ll go in the garage, along the corridor, passed the sleepers to my room.”

They stopped at the door as Dean began inputting a code at a panel.

“Sleepers?” Cas asked.

“We have rooms that aren’t anybody’s, anyone can just grab a few hours and then leave again.” The door opened. “But we have like nine rooms that are keepers, they’re assigned to certain hunters and have combination locks. I have one, Sam has one, so does Charlie, Ash, Ellen-” He shrugged. “My code is twelve, zero, five, fifty-four, in case you have to run ahead.”

They didn’t talk as they walked through the corridor, Dean kept his face forward, moving only his eyes and then when they got to his room he put the code in and opened the door. As soon as it opened he rushed to the lamp in the corner and dimmed it almost all the way.

Cas closed the door and heard it click behind them. “Where is Sam’s room?” he whispered.

Dean pointed to the wall to Cas’ left. “He’s in the library right now researching a bail, he’ll probably be on it until early morning.” He watched Cas put the box and bag down on the bed and began to take his trenchcoat off. “Let me,” Dean said as he walked to help him.

“Thank you,” Cas said and turned to see Dean hang it up on a coat stand by the door and it felt just like being in Dean’s apartment. He looked at what he could see of Dean in the low light as he slipped his suit jacket down his arms.

Dean put his hand out to take it but when he looked up and saw Cas looking at him he felt nervous. “What?”

“I missed you,” Cas admitted and held out his jacket.

Dean had reached out and clasped his hand around the fabric before he registered Cas’ words. He froze and his eyes moved to Cas’, he gradually smiled and looked to the side abashed, exhaling with the smile as if he were trying to laugh but it didn’t fully materialise. He took the jacket and looked down as he turned to hang it up. Even though he didn’t say anything Cas didn’t feel like he’d said the wrong thing, if anything it felt like the opposite.

“Do you mind if I turn the light on?” Cas said and put his hand out to the switch on the wall.

“No!” Dean snapped, turning back to him and putting his hand out. However, it was too late and his face was lit up for the couple of seconds it took for him to smash his hand over Cas’ on the switch, cutting the light off again.

It was in vain however, Cas had seen the black eye.

Cas’ face changed to shock. “Dean, what-?” He turned the light on again with a movement of his hand under Dean’s.

Dean grabbed his hand away and used the other to turn it off again. “Leave it off,” he demanded and his hand let Cas’ go as he turned his torso and pointed to the corner behind Cas. “Let’s eat.” He walked to it and turned before sitting on his buttocks with his back against the wall.

Cas turned and looked down at him. “There?”

Dean looked up at him and ignoring the pain in his knees. “Do you see a dining table or couch?” He gestured around the room.

Cas walked over to where he’d put the box and bag down and then gestured to the bed.

“Slow down, cowboy,” Dean said. “At least buy me dinner first.”

“I did,” Cas replied as he lifted both and walked over to join Dean at the corner. He put the bag down on the floor carefully and then sat down on Dean’s right side. He paused and looked to Dean as he moved away from Cas, to lean against the other wall.

He took the pizza box from Cas and gestured to himself. “Put your legs over mine,” he said but didn’t wait before he manhandled Cas’ legs into position so that both of their legs marked the spot. Cas was unsure what was happening as he watched Dean open the pizza box and smell the cheese and meat. Dean folded the lid under the bottom of the box and rested it on Cas’ legs. “When me and Sam were kids…” Dean began separating a slice of pizza from the rest while Cas extracted two beers from the bag and held one out to Dean who took it and twisted it open. “When Dad would be away for too long, sometimes sitting in the car could become a bit-.” He shrugged. “It sounds weird but, apart from the aching bones and muscles, you’d get a kind of cabin fever.” He put the bottle down on his left and then lifted the slice and took a bite. “We’d find a doorway and sit like this,” he muttered with a full mouth, “taking turns to be the table.”

“And I’m the table?” Cas asked, taking his own slice.

“This time,” Dean said with a kind smile.

Cas smiled too. “In the home,” he said and Dean looked at him, “we didn’t have much, we had enough but it was run by nuns so its resources were minimal. There was an older boy, he left when I was ten. He was old enough to go outside and so he carried out chores for the neighbors and saved up for a bicycle.” Dean took a drink of his beer and carried on eating his pizza. “It took him a while because the church ran the orphanage so church rules applied, to everything, even allowances.” Cas ate some of his pizza.

“What rules?” Dean asked.

“He was required to give half of what he earned to the church.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

Cas shrugged. “You learn not to question nuns.” Cas felt the muscle in his leg stretch a little more than was comfortable and he wondered if this was the case of something that worked in childhood not being feasible in adulthood.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “How did you learn that?”

Cas ignored the question. “After he got the bicycle-.”

Dean looked at his face; the blinking activation of denial. He knew it well. “Did they hit you?” he asked.

Cas looked at him and his eyes and moved over Dean’s face. He picked up his beer and Dean didn’t need an answer.

Yet, surprisingly, Cas gave him one anyway, “They hit anyone who gave them a reason. Especially the alphas, as early as possible so that when we grew strong enough to fight back we were already conditioned not to. We learned ways not to incur their wrath. It was easier that way.”

“I know something about that,” Dean agreed and they shared a feeble smile. “Sorry, you were saying.”

Cas shook his head. “It wasn’t of import.”

“Tell me,” Dean urged and Cas looked at him. “I want to know, important or not.” He lifted the beer to his lips and took a mouthful, nodding encouragingly.

Cas took a drink also and then put it down before picking up another slice. “After he eventually got a bicycle he started a paper round. He started taking some of the children – _the lifers_ we called them-.”

“Why them?” Dean asked, mimicking Cas’ air-quotes.

“Because they were settled, mature and wouldn’t run away.” He smiled. “I wasn’t allowed to go.”

“Because you had form,” Dean guessed and chuckled.

“Quite,” Cas said and fished in the bag for a napkin to wipe his mouth. “I was a flight risk but Joshua would give the kids he was allowed to take half of whatever he made.”

“So he’d split with the kids and then-”

Cas was biting into a slice so hummed as he rushed to talk, shaking his head. “He would split his money with the church and _then_ he would half what he had left with whichever kid he’d taken along.”

“So he got a quarter of what he made?” Cas nodded, taking a drink. “Wow.”

“I’m sure your family as no stranger to sacrifice,” Cas said. Dean looked at him in hummed in question. “Well, your dad.”

“Dad, yeah,” Dean said, looking down.

Cas remembered everything that Dean had said about his childhood.

“And you,” he said and Dean looked at him. “It must have been indescribably difficult for you to provide for your brother. You must know, better than anyone, the pain of sacrifice.”

Dean shrugged humbly. “What else was I gonna do? He was my baby brother, it had to be done.”

“That shouldn’t have been your worry, Dean. Your parents had children, they took on the responsibility but somehow it got passed on to you.”

“They couldn’t have seen my mother’s death coming, my dad’s grief-.” He stopped, thinking. “I wish it had been easier for us, I wish I coulda had the chance to be a kid, you know? We went to wrestling matches that was the only time I really felt like the kid. Dad bought us drinks and snacks and we’d cheer and if the guy we were cheering for was winning he’d put his arm around me and laugh, smiling at me.” Dean paused and grinned. “As if it was all down to me that he was winning.” He thought about it and his smile became sad before he came back to himself, aware Cas was watching him. “But I wish we coulda had it better. Not flashy, just enough so that maybe Sam coulda had pants long enough all the time or we coulda stayed at one school, made friends.” He shrugged. “Graduated on time.”

“What about Sam? He got a full ride.”

“Yeah, I made sure he graduated, made sure he had all the books he needed. I had to graduate too, later, to get my job.”

Cas looked at him in this moment of silence while they continued eating and drinking. It was a comfortable silence between them full of lingering smiles that also reached their eyes.

Eventually Cas broke into it, “When my parents fostered me I couldn’t settle in at all. Everything was far too quiet.”

“After living in a dorm with all of those boys I’m not surprised,” Dean conceded.

“The second night they found me downstairs asleep in front of the television.”

“Background noise?” Dean guessed, thinking back to Cas asleep on his sofa with the TV blaring.

“Yes, I was used to whispering, snoring, laughing, just noise.”

“I assume you were the only kid they had, your moms?”

“Yes,” Cas said.

“Musta been lonely,” Dean said, “after being surrounded?”

Cas hesitated, considering it. “In a way. I swapped one family for another, one love.”

“Or sacrificed,” Dean amended.

“If they had to be sacrificed,” Cas said, “what I received in return was worth it.” He looked at Dean as he took another drink. “And I bet you wouldn’t have given up Sam for anything.”

Dean hesitated, thinking about those nights away from Sam as a child and what his life would have been like without Sam. He smiled, looked up at Cas and shook his head. “He gave my life purpose.” He still smiled and looked forward. “More than that.” He turned to look at Cas. “He was a great kid.” Cas smiled. “I know everyone says that about theirs but he was. He knew everything. I _mean_ everything. He knows Latin.” He gestured in the air with one hand. “No one except stuffy old professors in England knows Latin!” Cas chuckled as he drank his beer. “But he does.” Dean’s smile faded. “He had a lot of trouble too though, I think.”

“How do you mean?” Cas asked.

“I think he struggled to figure out who he was. You can’t really blame him, I mean, we always moved around, never had a home, never anywhere permanent. That has to screw kid up. It did the same to me, maybe not in the same way. I mean, I can’t talk for girls and I don’t know what it’s like for alphas or betas but growing up as a boy, it’s difficult, you need something consistent: parents, home. They don’t have to be separate things, they can be the same.” Dean became solemn. “They could have been the same.” He closed his eyes briefly. “He always had a new phase; it was magic or drama or he was a vegetarian.” He exhaled sadly. “And then it was drugs.”

“May I ask what?” Cas asked.

“Uh, he told me he’d get tablets, grind ‘em up and mix it with some water or vodka. It’d make some kind of paste they all called ‘demon’s blood’, if you can believe that. The pills are white but it goes deep red as soon as it’s mixed. Looks like candy.” He shook his head disbelievingly. “You’re supposed to suck it from the paper over hours. You can smoke it, inject it, sniff it but this way makes it last longer. He said it made him feel powerful, it made him feel strong, like he could do anything, fix anything.” Dean looked down, trying to keep back tears.

“Dean, it’s not your fault,” Cas said.

“Yeah,” Dean said, nodding. “I know. I just can’t stop thinking, if I let myself start it doesn’t go away.”

“Thinking about what?”

“All of his phases; magic, acting, drugs… They’re all about making the impossible happen, being someone else, being able to change himself.” Dean paused. “Even the vegetarian thing. He still eats weird stuff and jogs-, I just see it as him trying to grab onto things he can control, when he can’t change everything. And he did law, trying to help people.” Dean sighed and looked down.

Cas could see that he wasn’t looking at anything physical. He also wasn’t sure where all of this as coming from and he was certain that this had to be the most Dean had shared in one go and it scared him; this couldn’t be happening without a reason and he wondered if it was connected to his black eye. He watched Dean eat some pizza and wash it down with the last of his beer. Cas got another bottle, twisted the cap off and passed it to him.

“All the hustling for money, the stealing, the patching stuff up, running from the cops, that was all worth it. I just wish Sam hadn’t grown up wanting to be someone else and feeling helpless.”

Cas looked at him and quickly rubbed the pizza dust from his hands then reached out his left hand, and cupped Dean’s face. It made Dean look at him, his eyes darted all over Cas’ face and then slowed slightly in their movements.

“He’s not helpless now,” Cas said and Dean looked down. “He’s a grown man who helps people, helps victims and criminals alike. He obviously had someone looking after him and teaching him well.”

Dean smiled and when Cas made to move his hand Dean’s came up and gently pressed it back to his face. Cas exhaled as the feeling of affection swelled and it hurt him. But it was a good hurt, the like of which he’d never voluntarily give up for anything. He cupped Dean’s face again and Dean let his right hand run down Cas’ upper arm. He let his head bow forward and Cas rubbed his thumb over his cheek.

“You did so well,” Cas said in a low voice and Dean looked up to him. He didn’t ask anything but Cas could see the sarcastic defence of, ‘ _you don’t even know him’,_ mixed with the childlike mutter of, ‘really?’ on his brow and in his eyes. “I don’t need to know him,” Cas said. “I-.”

“I wish you did,” Dean whispered and Cas couldn’t remember what he was going to say however it didn’t matter for long because Dean leaned forward and kissed him. He then leaned back and picked up his beer to take a drink.

Cas lowered his now cold hand and his eyes lingered on Dean before he finished his own beer and got another.

“Time for pie?” Dean asked, trying to shift the subject and atmosphere.

They exchanged the pizza box for the pie then Cas handed Dean a plastic spork and they began to eat.

“How is work?” Dean asked and looked up when Cas groaned in despair. “Ruined the moment?”

Cas smiled and looked back at him. “Were we having a moment?”

“Aren’t we always?” Dean asked with a coy smile.

Cas looked to his pie. “It’s hell,” he said. “It’s non-stop. I have eight accounts-.”

“Eight?!” Dean exclaimed, nearly choking on his pie.

Cas nodded. “And the hand-over and-,” he exhaled, “God knows what else. I’ve even been given another assistant, temporarily, until the work reduces.” He exhaled a guilty chuckle. “Whom I screamed at today.”

“You?” Dean asked. “I wasn’t aware you could scream.”

“Maybe you’re not trying hard enough,” Cas quipped and they grinned at each other.

“Sounds like a challenge,” Dean said and Cas’ face fell, his head dipped and he turned his attention back to his beer. Dean’s own face fell a little, but mostly he was confused at Cas’ reaction. He thought it was just harmless flirting but he seemed to have caused a reaction he couldn’t quite name.

Cas was mentally admonishing himself for getting carried away and tried to dampen the anxiety in his stomach. He was beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea.

Dean’s thought trail was suddenly snapped away from Cas’ reaction. “Does that mean you’re still working with that guy?” He cleared his throat as he looked up. “The guy on the phone?”

Cas’ eyes narrowed slightly and then relaxed as he realised who Dean was referring to. “Yes, but he is the least of my strain.”

“So, he’s not-?” Dean shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “Not a problem?”

Cas’ eyes narrowed again. “In what way?”

“He hasn’t gone into heat?”

“He went away on heat-leave but he’s back, if that’s what you mean. He returned unaffected.”

“And you?” Dean added. “Were you unaffected?”

“I wasn’t there, I was with you,” Cas stated.

Dean nodded and ate some of his pie before he looked up to see Cas doing the same. He couldn’t leave it there. “And if you had been?”

Cas turned more towards Dean. “What are you asking me, Dean?”

Dean closed his eyes tight and looked down, hating how he felt and how it was already making him act. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry that I don’t understand,” Cas apologised.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean replied. “This is good pie.”

There were footsteps along the corridor outside Dean’s room and the pair tensed, going silent, glancing to each other.

Sam was listening to a podcast about the correlation between poverty and drug use. He stabbed his code into the pad on the wall by the door to his room and went inside. When the door closed they looked at each other.

“Do you want me to leave?” Cas whispered.

Dean shook his head. “No,” he said.

 

They continued to eat some pie in silence.

“I can’t eat anymore,” Cas announced, his voice quiet.

“Yeah, me neither,” Dean agreed and he set the container on the floor to is left. They both took a drink and settled back against the walls.

Dean dropped his right hand to Cas’ left knee and then ran it halfway up Cas’ thigh; it wasn’t sexual, it was affection and Cas looked from it to him. He then put his left hand over Dean’s, halting it, then he gripped it reassuringly.

Cas tilted his head. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Sorry, I haven’t called you-.”

“No-,” Cas began to protest.

“I’ve just been burying myself in this work-.”

“It’s okay,” Cas said with a shake of his head.

“I was worried that you’d think that I’d changed my mind about… something.” Cas shook his head. “I just-, sometimes I have to work-.” He lifted his hand and gestured to his head. “My mind-.”

“Dean,” Cas said and Dean looked up. “It _is_ okay.” Dean’s brow twitched in question. “I understand.”

Dean leaned back against the wall, regarding Cas’ face, wondering how that could be. How could he understand when Dean had never explained it?

“You do,” Dean said, looking at him as he looked back, slightly confused, “you really do understand, don’t you?”

Now that he’d asked the question he didn’t need the answer because he knew it for himself. He lifted his head and hand, touched his index finger to Cas’ chin and kissed him, skipping straight to passionate. Cas followed his lead, both still holding beer bottles. Dean moved his left hand to Cas’ head but could only press his beer bottle to him.

Cas hummed out of the kiss. “Cold,” he said by way of explanation and they laughed. He took it from Dean and put them in the corner then cupped Dean’s jaw looking at him. “Dean, I waited six years for you, I can wait a couple of weeks.” He then kissed him, except that Dean was immobilized in surprise for a few seconds.

Suddenly Dean was on his front on a warm concrete floor begging any god that would listen to spare him. He now remembered reaching for the gun and when Alastair pulled him back his elbows scraped along the ground with a burn.

“I, uh-,” Dean mumbled and then rushed to stand up, lifting Cas’ legs to do so. He stuck his left hand into the pie as he scrambled to his feet but barely noticed it. “Need to pee,” he uttered as he left the room.

Cas exhaled and looked down in confusion and then to the door; in the rush he’d left it ajar.

Dean walked to the bathroom, closed the door with his clean hand and started to wash the other. He suddenly felt someone behind him so he whipped his head around.

Nothing.

He exhaled, turned back and leaned on the sink before closing his eyes. He did actually urinate and then looked at his face in the mirror. He couldn’t take anymore tablets and he didn’t think it’d help anyway.

He was walking back to his room with too much in his head to hear Hannah say his name. She jogged after him and grabbed his arm. He grabbed her hand and twisted her wrist. He then turned to face his attacker and realised who she was before she called out.

“Sorry!” Dean said, letting her wrist go. “Sorry.”

She exhaled angrily. “Ash and Claire were looking for you.”

“What did they want?”

“Ash said he’d filled in the Z-11, it’s in your inbox and Claire has a case early tomorrow. She said she needs your help and she knows you have nothing on so you’re stuck.” Dean chuckled. “And I have a message for you.” Dean lifted his head briefly, indicating that she was to tell him it. “Answer your phone, I’m not your secretary.” She rubbed her wrist. “Or your punching bag.” She began to walk away and then turned back to Dean. “Did you hear about Garth?”

Dean shook his head. “No, what about him?”

“He’s gone into another fever.”

“Again?” Dean asked in disbelief and Hannah nodded then walked away. “Every few weeks this happens,” he said to himself.

Dean opened his door, using his keypad, and found Cas on his feet in the middle of the room. He closed the door behind him.

“Any more beer?” he asked with an inhale.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Cas asked and took his arm to stop him moving away.

Dean shook him off. “Nothing,” he said as he sat down on the floor where Cas had been sitting.

“Dean-?”

“Just leave it!” Dean yelled and the room fell silent before he looked up to see Cas nod.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Cas said quietly. “That was the opposite of my intention.” He looked to the wall that Dean shared with his brother. “As a matter of interest, how thin are your walls?” Dean’s brow dipped “You said that Sam’s room was next door.”

Sam moved his book from his lap, only hearing his name from a stranger’s mouth, and moved to listen at the wall.

Dean exhaled, he felt guilty; here was Cas just trying to talk to him and even protect their secret in the process. A secret he didn’t ask for but accepted all the same, and what did Dean do? Shout at him. Mildred’s indignation at that entered his head once more.

The silence was so deafening that it was torture and he couldn’t blame it for trying to make him suffer.

“I was on a case today,” he said. Cas looked at him and Sam pressed his ear to the wall. “A rapist who really shouldn’t have been bailed in the first place.” He inhaled. “He attacked me.”

Cas’ whole body became heavy and he took one step towards Dean, kneeling in the process. His left hand lifted towards Dean’s face but stopped short. Dean looked to it and then up to Cas.

“May I?” Cas asked, his words trembling in his chest.

“Always,” Dean replied and inhaled quickly his eyes closing when Cas cupped the side of his face. It was warm and delicate yet solid and dependable.

“What happened?” He hummed, tears slowly filling up his eyes. “Are you able to tell me?”

Dean nodded and opened his eyes, feeling it hard to swallow. “Yeah, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh- I went to the garage. It was supposed to be a strip for parts place but I didn’t get that impression. I was worried he would jump in a car and run but he was just rolling a tire. Can you believe people actually do that, roll tires?” He exhaled through his nose. “I knew it was him I was looking for before I seen his face, see guilty people – people on the run – their body language either becomes fluid, trying to seem too casual, or stone.”

“Defensive?” Cas asked.

“Ready,” Dean corrected. “I wasn’t taking chances, he didn’t even get to turn around before I drew my gun and started to cuff him, he fought back, I fell, my gun came outta my hand-.” Dean gestured with his right hand, inhaling hard. “Next think I knew he was on top of me and pulling at my pants.” Dean’s voice croaked painfully and Cas took his hand in his right and squeezed it, Dean squeezed back as if it gave him breath.

“You’re okay, I’m here,” Cas reassured him softly and Dean nodded, licking his lips quickly.

“He slammed my head against the floor, I think he must have punched me then. I remember feeling something on my face, like a pressure, but I couldn’t get my bearings, it only lasted a second. Next thing I was on my front and he was pulling at the back of-,” he inhaled, “back of my pants, I felt my underwear go down-.” He inhaled again, this time quickly and somewhat desperately while his chest tightened.

“It’s just me and you,” Cas said, tears bubbling in his eyes so much that he struggled to see Dean. “He can’t hurt you now.”

Dean nodded again, feeling Cas’ thumb stroke over his cheek bone. He tried to swallow and again it wouldn’t work. “I knew I had to do something and only a few seconds to do it in so I tried for the gun but he pulled me back. I managed to use my foot on his leg to launch myself away from him enough to kick him, I don’t know where or how many times but he hit his head, got disorientated. I grabbed my gun and that was it.”

All of the air seemed to rush out of Cas’ lungs as he said, “He didn’t assault you?”

“Other than slamming my head into the floor, no, but he was going to-.”

“No, I know,” Cas rushed to agree as his tears fell. “Just let me settle that in my head, that he didn’t get to hurt you, not in _that_ way. Allow me a selfish moment to recover.” He exhaled forcefully while Dean’s eyes looked at his face and then pulled Dean into a hug, his face in Cas’ neck and Cas’ head held high – protective alpha over vulnerable omega. “Oh, thank God,” Dean heard Cas utter and it winded him; he’d said it like he really cared, as if it were his own body that’d almost been violated. “Oh, Dean,” he said and held Dean tighter.

Dean exhaled hard and he started to feel safe for the first time since he’d gotten back.

In the next room Sam was leaning with his back against the wall – he’d heard enough of what Dean had said to know that he’d nearly been attacked and wouldn’t tell anyone about it besides whoever was in the room with him. Sam didn’t recognise his voice but had an idea about what coat he’d wear.

Cas leaned back, cupping Dean’s face and looking at him before exhaling. “I’m sorry,” he said and nodded. “I just-, I’m relieved.”

“You and me both,” Dean said with a bitter chuckle.

“Tell me how you feel,” Cas implored gently.

Dean opened his mouth and looked to the side. “I know it didn’t happen and I think about how much worse the people who it has happened to must feel but I still feel-.” He grunted and hung his head. “So selfish.”

“No,” Cas said and moved his hand under his chin to lift it to look at him. “No, it’s not. It’s very justified. He had every intention of hurting you.” Cas’ brow dipped. “And just because you got away doesn’t mean you don’t get to feel the implications of that. Just like all those years ago.”

Dean sniffed. “I thought about then,” he said. “The way they pinned me against the wall. When I think about it I can smell fish. There must have been a sushi place. Do you remember?”

Cas hesitated. “I could only smell you,” he said softly, as if finally confessing a secret he never wanted Dean to know.

Dean saw the shame but Cas’ eyes never left his and he knew somehow that Cas felt that Dean’s pain was of greater importance than Cas’ shame. So he continued, “I had dirt on my face and I didn’t realise until I went into the shower. Dirt from the wall in that alley, on my face and hands and clothes. This time I had dirt and dust and powder on my clothes. Isn’t it funny, alphas are the ones who attack and yet we’re the ones who are left to clean up.” Cas looked apologetic and Dean felt bad for generalising his kind but he knew that Cas understood what he meant. “I changed as soon as we came back from the jail.”

“We?” Cas asked.

“I called Ash. Once I had him cuffed I got Ash to take him in one of the bunker SUVs, I didn’t want him in my car.” Cas nodded, his head lowering. “He threatened me.” Cas’ head shot back up. “‘See you when I get out’ kinda thing. I’ve had them before, we all have, but-,” he sniffed, “this one scared me.”

He tried to stop himself but he started crying – in Dean's way that tears fell but he made no noise.

Cas shifted around to sit on Dean’s right and pulled him into his chest. “It’s okay to be scared, Dean.” He kissed the top of his head and then rested his cheek there. He ran his right hand through Dean’s hair and froze when he felt a bump.

Dean felt the burst of pain on the surface, his nerves fizzling as if grumpy at having been woken up. “That’s where he-.”

“Yes,” Cas interrupted. “I’m sorry.” He pulled him in closer and closed his eyes when he felt Dean’s left hand on his side.

“S’okay,” Dean muttered.

Sam pushed off the wall, running his hands through his hair.

>><< 

“I hate to ask this,” Cas said as Dean was putting their nearly finished pie into the plastic bag.

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas paused awkwardly. “I assumed that you would have your own bathroom.”

Dean straightened up and looked down at what he was wearing, clearly he’d come from work. “You want a shower,” he concluded.

“It would be preferable but if it’s not convenient-.”

“No, no,” Dean said. “Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up.” He gestured to the door.

“If you’re sure?” Cas said.

“Yeah, hold on,” Dean said and opened the door, sticking his head out to check if there was anyone lingering in the corridors.

Cas bowed his head; however much he understood he wished it were different.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, putting his left hand back and wiggling his fingers, indicating that Cas should grasp it, which he did, and Dean grabbed it firmly in return before he pulled him out of the door and along the empty corridor. In his haste they left the bedroom door ajar again.

The got to the end of the corridor and Dean took a left, leading Cas through a door unlike the others in that it didn’t have a symbol or number on it.

It looked like it had been redecorated in the past few years; a row to sinks to the left, three stall showers in the far left corner, stall bathrooms to the direct right and – to Cas’ surprise – a pie segment shaped bath in the far right corner. The entire bathroom was covered in dark-grey square tile that, together with the white porcelain sinks, made the room feel bigger rather than smaller. On hooks in between the shower stalls were towels and shower caps.

Dean closed the door and locked it, turning to see Cas looking around the room. He smiled proudly. “D’you like it?”

“Yes,” Cas said and nodded as he continued looking around. “It’s surprisingly modern.”

“We updated,” Dean stated with a nod and looked around himself. “It reminded me too much of a subway restroom.” He gestured to the shower stalls.

Cas began to unbutton his shirt. “How so?”

“The tiles.” He gestured to the stall bathrooms. “This was all urinals.”

“No toilets?” Cas asked, pulling his shirt off of his arms and glancing in the mirror.

“One,” Dean nodded, “a W.C downstairs. A _genuine_ water closet.” He smiled. “I guess, for those backed up days.” His attention was suddenly taken away by Cas’ folding up his shirt quickly and placing it on the worktop by the sinks. “But there was no real need for anything except urinals for every day in those days.” His eyes lowered as Cas began unbuttoning his pants. “Girl-free zone.”

“And the bath?” Cas asked as he lifted his legs out, right then left, almost stumbling.

“I like baths,” Dean replied and looked away as he made for the shower stalls, stopping at the one in the corner and reaching out to turn its tap on. As soon as the water came on the lighting strip that ran the length of the shower stalls blinked into life.

Cas looked at him and then leaned his head forward to try and see him better as he folded his pants up, his arms moving slower than usual. “Baby?”

Dean’s head whipped around and saw Cas raised his eyebrows in question and then he felt it was such a ridiculous thing to lie about and he sighed. “I wanted omegas to feel like they could be hunters,” he said and put his right hand under the water to test the temperature; it was too hot and he figured Bela had been in here recently since she liked to almost scald her skin off – something Dean had only found out after having to go on a hunt with her and posing as a happy couple which meant sharing a motel room and bathroom, he’d jumped in the shower after her and nearly needed to go to the emergency room – so he turned the temperature down a little, since they’d shared showers before Dean felt he knew what temperature Cas was comfortable with. “Some go into heat and they’re out of state so it can help until their alphas arrive or so I’ve been told.” He shrugged and then smiled at Cas who’d made no attempt to take his underwear off.

It hadn’t occurred to Cas that Dean would stay in the bathroom with him but now that he was in the situation it was the only logical way this could have happened. He swallowed, slightly glad that Dean had already showered that day and hoping it would mean that Dean wouldn’t want to join him.

Dean took a step towards Cas before he said, “And it bubbles hot and cold so when they’re not using it-.” He winked.

Cas was mildly worried by it but took it for the modest bravado he was trying to affect and he was ready to break it in half. He walked towards Dean and stopped in front of him. “You have a beautiful soul,” Dean’s whole face relaxed in shock, the coyness morphing to humility, “has anyone ever told you that?”

Dean swallowed before he had to admit, “It’s not really something people say.”

Cas nodded. “I apologise,” he said and walked around Dean to the stall, stepping inside – staying against the tile to avoid getting wet – before he leaned to take his underpants off. He looked to the right side of the opening of the stall to make sure Dean wasn’t going to appear before he checked them for blood and them let them fall to the floor just outside the stall.

He looked down to check his stitches and inhaled before he glanced to the opening again and then stepped under the spray. He inhaled a little as it stung and instinctively moved his hips back then cautiously straightened under the water.

“Don’t apologise,” Dean said and Cas’ ears went up, he turned his back to the opening to fully get under the spray and in case Dean decided to bide his time by wandering. “I like it,” Cas’ brow dipped minutely, “when you say things that no one says.”

Cas smiled a little. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Dean walked over to the bath and sat on the edge. He put his hands on his legs and looked at the back of Cas who closed his eyes when the warm water began to run over his front and around his calves.. The lighting above the stall was Dean’s idea; it would turn off when the water did.

Cas inhaled feeling himself soothed by the water but simultaneous it seemed to highlight every ache and pain in his body. This physical exhaustion then succeeded in bringing his emotional strain to the forefront.

“There should be products in there,” Dean said and Cas tensed, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Dean there. “I can get you anything else you need though.”

Cas swallowed as he slowly turned his head back to stare at the back of the shower stall and nodded. “This is fine, thank you.”

Dean shrugged and looked at the floor, thinking about the heat products he had in his house and trying to remember if he needed more moisturiser. After a minute he languidly looked back to Cas as he was rubbing Dean’s _2-in1_ shampoo between his hands and then through his hair. Dean watched bubbles run down his back and wanted to trace them. But while he was happy to watch it and fantasize about it he couldn’t bring himself to act on it. He felt slightly detached from his own body, as if he were in a mild shock that threatened to linger for the rest of his days.

Cas rinsed his hair and then froze when someone pushed against the door to the bathroom, the fact that Dean had locked it behind them made it rattle in the frame with the person on the other side’s body weight. Dean’s arms fell apart as he looked to the door when it rattled more persistently and he put his hands on the side of the bath to push himself up as Cas turned his head to look at him.

“Just stay in there with the water on,” Dean said quietly then moved out of Cas’ line of vision to the sink. He leaned down and opened one of the doors there, plucked out the bleach and left that door ajar while he rushed to the bathroom door which was still being gently teased.

In the process of yanking it open he smiled genially when he came face to face with a confused Ed. “What’s up?” His eyes drifted over Ed as he began to realise that he was covered – almost head to toe – in mud.

He sighed. “Shower?”

Dean lifted the bleach. “Try the other one.”

He barely gestured before Ed nodded once and trudged off angrily down the corridor in the direction of the stairs down to the next level for somewhere to shower.

Dean exhaled and closed the door, tucking the bleach back under the sink and closing the cupboard door. He leaned his palms on the side of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror wondering why he was still doing this and – a self-deprecating part of him piped up – why Cas was going along with it.

“Safe?” Cas hissed from the stall, sounding nervous to be talking at all.

Dean closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said and shook his head as he lifted his right hand and pinched his nose, pushing his fingertips into his squeezed tight eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Cas replied, somewhat hesitant as he wasn’t ready for Dean’s apology.

Dean dropped his hand and opened his eyes, looking at himself again and shaking his head once more, this time more aimed directly at himself. “It’s not,” he disagreed while Cas applied shower gel to the sponge on the shelf in the corner and rubbing it together to activate the bubbles. “You must feel like my bit on the side.”

Cas smiled to himself and began rubbing the sponge over his neck and shoulders. “Am I?”

“That would require me to have a main,” Dean answered flippantly and then lifted his tight fist with the intent of slamming it into the counter in front of him but slowing it just before the surface, logic telling him that that would just hurt and may hinder his ability to fire a gun for a while. “Sorry,” he muttered. “No, you’re not, Cas.”

“I know,” Cas said, moving onto his torso.

Dean’s head turned in the direction of the cubicle. “Do you?” He moved slowly back towards the stalls but stopped between the second and third, leaning on the wall there. “Do you really?”

“I do,” Cas said. “However, I like hearing you say it.”

Dean smiled weakly since he could understand that more than he wanted to admit. Then, as if to stay true to his emotional defences, he tried to distance himself from the situation. “I might have to cut out early tomorrow; Claire needs my help on a job.” He heard Cas shut the water off and imagined him looking up as the light went off, he took the towel off of the hook and stepped to hold it around the corner for him.

Cas looked behind him and then reached out for it. “Thank you,” he said. He dried himself as much as possible and then wrapped it around his waist. As Cas emerged he found Dean smiling at him and he smiled back, dipped to pick up his underwear, then walked to perch on the edge of the bath where Dean had been and lifted his foot to dry them one by one on the end of his towel.

“How is Sam?” Cas asked.

“Sam?” Dean asked, somewhat surprised. “He’s okay, I think. He’s had a couple of close calls recently but-.”

“Close calls, as in work or…?”

Dean’s cheek twitched his mouth up at the left side but it didn’t amount to a smile: drugs then.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, “and thankful that they were only _close_ calls.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “He called me each time, asked me to help him.”

Cas looked at him, the man who was still gladly saving his younger brother even though he – like anyone – would give anything not to have him need saving. “That’s a godsend.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “If I believed in a god I’d drop to my knees and kiss the ground every day, just for those phone calls.”

Cas really believed him. He stood up and walked to stand in front of Dean. “Shall we make another dash across no man’s land?” Dean looked down when he felt Cas took his right in his left.

“In a towel?” Dean asked and Cas just nodded once.

They gathered up Cas’ clothes – Cas folded his underpants to hide the spots of blood he might have missed – and then made a run for Dean’s room. They found it closed, as they expected, but were unaware that, when Ed had been turned away Dean’s voice had intrigued Sam. He’d left his room and stopped when he noticed Dean’s room door open. He’d opened the door, just enough to confirm that it was empty, glancing behind the door with the intention of closing it behind him. He stopped when he saw a pizza box and four beer bottles on the ground next to a plastic bag. As he turned to resume closing the door he saw a familiar coat hanging by Dean’s, he paused for a second and then closed the door then wandered back to the library.

Cas tried not to but he noticed Dean put in the code, he wasn’t trying to hide but Cas noticed that he did it quickly; he wondered if this was because he was so used to doing it or because he felt they were in danger of being discovered.

They were safely back inside before Cas decided to ask, “Are those numbers significant to you?”

Dean paused before he realised Cas was referring to his passcode. “My mom’s birthday.”

“Forgive me, but isn’t that a rather obvious choice for a passcode?”

Dean shrugged. “It might have gone under the radar but I’m not exactly the sharing kind.” Cas chuckled. “So really I’m only in danger of my brother stealing my money but he doesn’t need to.” He then walked to the drawers in the corner. “I assume you’ll need pants?”

“If it is convenient,” Cas replied.

Dean smiled as he pulled the middle drawer open. “It’s more convenient to have you naked all the time, actually.” He pulled out a pair of sleeping pants and then held them out to Cas however when Cas reached out for them he pulled them back. “Want a hand?” he said and then winked. Cas opened his mouth to say something but then just swallowed, it was this lack of humour and his hesitation that made Dean feel uneasy. “I was just kiddin’.” He held them out.

“Were you?” Cas asked and then turned away from Dean to drop his towel and pull them on, Dean noticed the rush he was in to be clothed.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Joke-flirtin’, maybe.”

Cas leaned down to pick up the towel from the floor and lifted it to dry his hair as he turned back to Dean. “Flirt?” he repeated with surprise. “You were flirting with me?”

“Is that okay?” Dean asked, confused by his reaction.

Cas wasn’t sure what annoyed him more; what he was keeping from Dean – and why – or the fact that he had to have that stated for him. He looked down and sighed angrily; definitely the latter.

“I take that as a no,” Dean said with a puzzled rise in his eyebrows.

“No, it’s not a no,” Cas said. “I just wish I could actually tell when you were.” He looked up to Dean and tried to smile but it came across as forced.

“Is that just with me that you struggle with that or-?”

“I can never recall anyone flirting with me,” Cas said. “Even that boy at camp. One minute we were talking and the next-.” He gestured to the floor in front of him and Dean knew what he meant.

“Talking about what?”

“I don’t even remember,” Cas admitted with a shake of his head. “I do remember he said something about hedonism and then-.” He gestured again, less animatedly.

Dean hummed. “Hedonism, that’s about a third of my personality.” They shared another smile. “Do you want a shirt?” Dean asked.

“Yes, please,” Cas confirmed.

Dean closed the middle drawer then pulled the top open. He rummage in the contents and looking for a specific top he remembered he’d felt quite cosy in one particularly cold night. “It gets chilly in here,” he explained as he held out a grey long-sleeved shirt for him and Cas nodded before he pulled it over his head.

Dean felt that since Cas was fully dressed then he should be too so while he found his bed clothes Cas pulled his arms through the sleeves. He was then changing as Cas tidied up the beer bottles on the floor and held out an unopened one to a changed Dean.

Dean thanked him then sat down on the bed, twisting it open as Cas sat down on his right and did the same. Dean gave him the cap and Cas put them on the nightstand then they toasted their bottles and took a drink. They didn’t say anything for a minute or so while they took a few sips and savoured them.

Dean felt exhaustion wave over him. “I feel like today has gone on for ten years.”

Cas nodded. “Trying days tend to stretch out like that.” He rubbed his face tiredly. “I also feel that today has gone on too long.”

“Well, at the risk of sounding like an old married couple,” Dean started and they looked at each other, “shall we call it a night, dear?” Cas smiled and so did Dean. “See, I expected you to take me seriously. You’re learning already.”

Dean didn’t expect an answer and certainly not the one he got: Cas merely tilted his upper torso to his left so that he leaned against Dean’s arm, Dean looked to his face and saw that it was smiling and slightly tired. Dean smiled too as he leaned to kiss the top of Cas’ head before leaning his own head against it.

Cas closed his eyes and thought about Saturday mornings in bed with his parents, even at such an age as he was adopted, they happened by accident and may have seemed as if they were trying to give him the things he’d missed as a child however he looked forward to them every week. Sitting there, with Dean, in bed, sipping beer – he thought it might be something else that he could look forward to. He wondered how many more things Dean could make worth cherishing.

“Shall we then, dear?” Cas said and Dean chuckled through his nose.

“Come on then,” Dean said, both of them lifting their heads before Dean put out his hand to take the bottle from Cas to put them down on the nightstand.

He surprised Cas by taking him for another bathroom dash to get ready for bed and then they climbed into bed together. Cas turned to face him in the dark, on his left side, while Dean lay on his back, lifting his right arm to rest under his head.

“How is your wound?” Cas asked and leaned forward, lifting his right hand to hover over Dean’s abdomen and then pausing. “May I?”

Dean turned his head a little to where he assumed Cas was. The darkness still hid Cas from him but he knew what Cas was referring to. “I told you, Cas; always.”

“Which is also how long I’ll keep asking for permission,” Cas said and lifted Dean’s shirt up to his nipple and then Dean felt the warmth of his palm on his hip before it cautiously ran up and stopped when Cas felt the slightly raised skin.

“Sam took out the stitches for me,” Dean said, his voice soft.

Cas’ finger ran over the still sensitive skin which was now bruised yellow – not from the original injury but from the removal of the stitches – however the scar itself was blood red; not that Cas could see any of this as he stroked his thumb gently over the bump.

“Does it still hurt?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged with one shoulder and then changed his mind, deciding to be truthful. “Getting the stitches out seemed to piss it off and sometimes I stretch too far or wake up with an ache but nothing an aspirin won’t fix.”

Cas leaned forward and kissed the skin tentatively. Dean moved his left hand to stroke over Cas’ upper back and couldn’t help but hum when Cas’ right hand ran up his side; he loved the warmth of his skin, the fabric of his sleeve that followed it, the softness of his lips as well as the gentle huffs of his breath tickling his scar.

“You know, for such a busy guy you don’t wear a watch.”

“I don’t have time to look at my watch,” Cas said and Dean chuckled under his touch. Cas kissed up his chest and Dean lifted his left hand up to run through Cas’ hair, he exhaled as he felt the tension leaving his body.

“We could never be an old married couple,” Cas said as he kissed further up Dean’s chest, pushing Dean’s shirt further up.

“Why not?” Dean asked and inhaled when Cas moved to his neck.

“We could never be that boring,” Cas replied and moved to kiss his lips.

Dean hummed and Cas felt a little shift on the mattress when Dean pulled his arm from under his head then stroked his hand down Cas’ back and cupped his head with his left. “No,” he agreed as they pulled apart to look at each other. Dean then turned them on the bed and then kissed Cas’ neck. “No we couldn’t.”

Cas exhaled, closing his eyes just as he realised where this was heading. “Dean, I didn’t mean for this to lead to sex.”

“Happy accident,” Dean said and smiled as he leaned back but then he looked at Cas’ face; it was worried and he avoided eye contact making Dean’s smile fall. “Or not,” he said and Cas closed his eyes as if annoyed. “We don’t have to have sex, Cas. I just-, I thought-, We don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Cas said. “I just wanted to kiss you and touch you.”

“Honestly, after today, that’s more than fine by me,” Dean said and moved forward to kiss Cas.

He made contact before Cas put his hand on his chest to urge him back. “Dean,” he said quickly and his pause after was full of nervousness. “I-.” He looked away.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, shifting to lean on his right elbow. The darkness had started to reveal details to him but while he couldn’t make out the redness around Cas’ eyes he heard the pain in his voice as he said. “Dean, please-.”

“Hey, hey,” Dean said and used his left hand to lift Cas’ chin, his brow dipping and he wished he could see more of him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Cas sniffed and when he spoke his voice broke, “You’ll hate me.”

Dean’s brow scrunched more and then he shook his head once as he said, “Not possible.”

Cas looked away and swallowed hard. “I-, I don’t know if I can.”

Dean was sure he could see despair in his eyes but he couldn’t think why. His mind was racing, trying to think of what could possible upset him so much; he was dying, he slept with someone. Even the impossible passed through his mind; he hurt someone or he didn’t want Dean anymore.

“Please,” Dean said; anything had to be better than the ideas that were running through his head now.

Cas swallowed with a nod. “I had-, I had to have a circumcision,” he said as if it were the most foul crime in history.

Dean’s eyebrows relaxed and then a second later, when he was worried he hadn’t heard correctly, they knitted together again. When he’d decided – another second later – that he had indeed heard him correctly, his eyebrows raised again. “That’s it?” he asked.

“It?” Cas repeated disbelievingly. “Isn’t that enough?”

Dean felt like he was missing something. “I don’t understand,” he said and cupped Cas’ face. “Why are you so upset, what does it might to you, what am I missing?” Cas didn’t immediately answer. “Were you and your foreskin serious?”

Cas burst out laughing and Dean smiled. “I just-,” he looked up at Dean, “It’s too alpha for us, isn’t it?”

Dean immediately chuckled but it quickly turned into an exclamation of, “Oh!” that suggested he felt sympathy for him and yet still considered his concern was unfounded. “Cas, honey-.”

“It’s too alpha,” Cas repeated softly, his face confused and his voice betraying how that confusion leaked into Cas’ perception of their relationship.

“Cas,” Dean repeated, looking down at him and exhaled. “Yeah, alphas get circumcised.” Cas nodded and Dean shrugged. “You’re an alpha, Cas. If you were trying to keep it a secret from me you’re seven years too late. It’s a part of you,” Dean said. “Of who you are.” He smiled. “In case you didn’t know, I kinda like who you are.” He smiled feebly and Cas’ eyes darted over his face. “Why’d you get it?”

“I got an infection in the connective tissue after tearing the skin. The doctors said it would keep coming back and recommended I have it removed.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “How’d you tear it?”

Cas looked to the side and tensed his jaw.

Dean’s face dropped. “You slept with someone.”

Cas looked back to him immediately. “No, I was too rough when I masturbated and tore the skin.”

Dean’s eyebrows lifted again. “How can you just say that out loud?”

“Easily, because I’d rather be embarrassed than you think that I’d ever sleep with someone else.”

Dean softened and felt guilty. “I didn’t, not really. I just couldn’t think how else-.”

“I was upset when I masturbated and hurt myself,” Cas explained further.

“Why were you upset _and_ cleaning the pipes?”

“I-.” Cas looked down. “I could-.” He swallowed. “I was thinking about you,” Dean’s mouth fell open slightly, images running through his head, “in your apartment.”

Dean shook his head. “When? Why did that upset you?”

“You were out hunting,” Cas replied. “It wasn’t that that upset me. I was trying to understand how I felt about you and I’d convinced myself that it was just me. I wanted to be able to separate emotion and sex, you and masturbating. But I couldn’t.” Cas closed his eyes. “I couldn’t.”

Dean gently rested his forehead against Cas’. “Babe, I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Cas asked and lifted his right hand to cup Dean’s head.

“If I’d said something sooner, maybe you wouldn’t have hurt yourself.”

Cas’ hand paused. “And not have to be circumcised?” he asked.

Dean shook his head against Cas’. “Cas, I don’t care what part of you is or isn’t peeled.” He leaned back to look down at Cas. “I just don’t. It’s like you said: I’m not here for that.”

Cas seemed to grip Dean’s neck. “So, you’re-? This?” Dean felt Cas’ other hand lift and gently press over his collar bone. “This won’t change?”

Dean smiled. “Well, we’ll have to use more lube than usual.” Cas smiled. “But other than that, no.” He shook his head. “No, you idiot.”

Cas’ smile widened and then he laughed in relief and then pressed on Dean’s neck to urge him to lean down, which he did, and kissed him.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked. “Maybe I should-.” He looked down and then moved to lie beside Cas who turned to his left again to face him.

“Yes,” Cas assured him. “It hurts in the morning though.”

“Boner?” Dean guessed.

“Yes,” Cas confirmed and then continued as if interrupted, “Also it still spots blood occasionally and I’m finding my underpants chaffing.”

Dean tilted his head. “When did you get it done?”

“Three weeks ago,” Cas replied, pulling the sheet up to their chests and Dean fixed his shirt.

“You didn’t need anyone?” Dean asked, his eyes falling to the bed.

Cas bowed his head. “Dean, it was a ninety minute procedure under local anaesthetic. What could you have done?”

Dean wet his lips quickly. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “been there for you?”

Cas blinked slowly. “Are you flirting again?”

Dean shook his head. “I’m serious, Cas. You said if I needed anything I could call you. That goes both ways.” He kept Cas’ eye contact. “Just so ya know.” He tightened his jaw as he looked away then moved off of his numbing elbow to lie flat. “So, I shouldn’t try to feel you up then?” he quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“For another few weeks,” Cas said. “But I can still make you feel good.” He ran his right hand down Dean’s arm and took his hand. Dean lifted his hand at the elbow and turned his hand to match Cas’, both of them moving to touch his fingertips together.

“You do,” Dean said and Cas looked up to him.

“Have I ruined the moment with my confession?” Cas asked.

“No,” Dean said. “Like I said, after today, this is how you make me feel good.”

Cas chuckled; it wasn’t amusement or embarrassment but flattery.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning brings the outside world back into play and the pair find they unfortunately have to rejoin it. Different challenges await all of them; the hunters have bad guys to catch and Cas finally finds out what is going on with file five, subsection eighteen.

The morning brought with it a rude awakening from Dean’s alarm clock that Cas decided announced itself far too quickly. Dean reached to turn it off and knocked both beer bottles from the night stand, luckily they didn’t smash but Dean groaned when he remembered that they weren’t empty. He opened his eyes when he felt the bed shift and Cas move in behind him, wrapping his left arm around Dean’s middle before pulling him in close.

Dean smiled when Cas pressed his forehead against the back of neck. “Mornin’,” he said, a croak to his voice.

“Time?” Cas mumbled.

“Five,” Dean said.

There was a pause. “ _That_ is too early,” Cas replied with evident distaste.

Dean inhaled and hummed. “Gotta get up early to catch the bad guys.”

Cas simply stated, “No.”

“No?” Dean repeated, amused.

“No,” Cas confirmed. “Stay in bed.” He leaned his head down so that he could nuzzle closer to Dean.

Dean actually laughed. “I didn’t know you were so cute in the morning. Wait, I gotta see this,” he muttered and started to turn around, Cas loosening his hold to let him.

Cas smiled when Dean looked over his face – puffy, red and creased in patterns with sleep – he laughed bashfully and hugged into him. “Stay in bed with me,” he said.

Dean sighed. “Hon, I wish I could.”

Cas huffed and then paused with a thought. He lifted his arms to Dean’s shoulders and pushed him onto his back, lifting his leg over Dean.

“Cas…” Dean warned and Cas leaned down to kiss his neck. “Don’t start,” he said with a chuckle but lifted his left hand to cup Cas’ head anyway and hummed. “Your body is writing cheques it can’t cash,” he added.

Cas’ right hand ran down and he too shifted down to allow himself space to rub over Dean’s crotch; clearly his body was aware it was morning. He moved his lips to Dean’s right ear. “I told you,” he said as his hand became more insistent, “I can still make you feel good.” He looked down at Dean who bit his lip. “Huh?”

Dean nodded and groaned when Cas’ hand dipped into his pants. “Yeah,” he said softly and ran his right hand up Cas’ thigh.

Cas listened to the way Dean softly moaned and couldn’t help but thrust against Dean’s thigh; the skin on his penis stretched and the pain made him hiss.

“It won’t hurt if you don’t grind on me,” Dean said, breathless as his hand gripped Cas’ thigh.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Cas said and swallowed.

“No?” Dean asked, his eyes opening to look at him shake his head. “How long,” Cas felt it when Dean lifted his hand and pulled teasingly at his pants, “do we have to wait?” Dean let his index finger touch the skin of Cas’ groin and softly stroked it.

Cas swallowed, looking down at him and wished he didn’t have to the say the words he was about to. “At least another three weeks.”

Dean grunted with frustration and let Cas’ pants snap back into place.

Cas smiled as he continued stroking Dean; he didn’t recall stopping but he must have because Dean reacted to this renewed movement.

“Is this how you plan to make me feel-?“ Cas interrupted him by pushing the bottom of Dean’s shirt up and kissed his stomach. “Oh, you are a bad man.”

Cas smiled as he moved further down. “Is that okay?” he asked, kissing below his stomach and then further down.

“Yeah,” Dean said breathlessly. He watched Cas grin and then lean back on the balls of his feet before beginning to pull Dean’s pants off, when they got passed his knees he progressed to a tug. He threw them to the floor. “So forceful,” Dean quipped.

Cas pushed his palms into the mattress at either side of Dean’s thighs and smiled at him. “Is that what you want?” he asked, a hint of play in his voice.

Dean hummed, biting his lip, and Cas rubbed his hands up Dean’s thighs prompting him to open his legs a little and his kissed up the inside of his left leg. Dean exhaled with the buzz in his crotch it created.

“Is that three weeks thing set in stone?” Dean asked as Cas kissed around his groin.

Cas could smell the heat coming from his skin and the familiar vapour coming from Dean’s hole. He felt his mouth becoming dry as the back of his throat was filled with scotch. “Unfortunately, yes,” he said and swallowed as he curled his hand around Dean’s penis again.

“How unfortunately?” Dean asked. “When was the last time you took care of business?” he asked and gestured his head to Cas’ own crotch; it was rock solid through his pants but Dean could see the spots of blood. “Is that normal?”

“Yes,” Cas said and licked his lip. “I was recommended to masturbate the night before the procedure.” He inhaled, watching Dean’s foreskin move with his hand and clear liquid collecting at the tip. He leaned down and licked it off, leaving his own saliva there.

Dean gasped and then groaned before lifting his hand to Cas’ left shoulder and gripping it. “What did you think about?”

Cas moved forward to lean over him and Dean looked over his face. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” he asked.

Dean glanced down. “Oh yeah,” he said and then smiled, knowing that he was teasing Cas and Cas tilted his head with a sigh. “What did you think about? Tell me.”

Cas swallowed again and kissed Dean before saying. “What I’m about to do but reversed,” he said and then moved back down to Dean’s crotch and prepared to take it in his mouth.

Dean looked down. “Me?” he asked.

Cas looked up and just scoffed as if there was no need to answer that before sinking down Dean’s length. Dean pursed his lips then groaned, watching Cas who shifted his weight onto his left elbow at Dean’s right hip. Dean felt him rub his right hand over the inside of Dean’s left thigh and he automatically tried to open his legs further but found his right leg trapped under Cas torso, so he bent the knee of his free leg and then let it settle back down as Cas slowly moved up and down on his length.

Cas let his nails grip into the skin of Dean’s thigh and then let his tongue press against Dean who moaned gently in response. Cas glanced up to see the bottom of Dean’s chin before he looked down to Cas briefly and then groaned before looking up again, lifting his hand to grip above his pillow and then – to Cas’ surprise – let it fall to his own chest where he seemed to briefly grip over his nipple. Cas gripped his thigh in the same manner and Dean keened. Cas sucked harder and Dean gasped then moved his hand to Cas’ head and ran his fingers through Cas’ hair.

Dean felt the familiar buzz starting beginning to swell across his lower extremities. He was still heavy with sleep but somehow it made everything feel more intense; the heat of Cas' mouth was hotter, the press of his tongue on Dean's length was more textured , the circle of Cas' lips around the base of his penis - and as they lifted and dropped back to where Cas was holding him in rhythm - were firmer, even the touch of Cas' elbow against Dean's side was sweatier.

Cas could smell liquid seeping from him and he felt a rumble in his throat and decided he wanted to do more. He closed his eyes and felt the tip of his own penis rub against his pants; it felt raw and dry, especially just under the tip. He wanted to hiss but couldn’t so he quickly moved his right hand to pull his pants away from himself and then, when he moved it back to Dean’s thigh it was further up and Dean rolled his hips as if inviting him in so he took the hint.

He moved his left hand from holding Dean to gently lifting his testicles; they were warm and slightly sweaty to the touch. He pressed the first two fingers on his right hand to Dean’s entrance and Dean seemed to tense very briefly as if he didn’t expect the touch. It was wet and it sent a jolt to Cas’ crotch so he circled them on the outside, just to stop his intrusion hurting.

“Tease,” Dean whispered.

Cas pushed his fingers inside and Dean’s hand fell from his hair as he inhaled and groaned, tipping his head back, his eyes closing tighter and tighter the further in Cas’ fingers got while he kept his mouth moving slowly. As soon as he was all the way inside he paused, dropping Dean’s testicles into his own palm and holding his penis more securely. He gingerly eased into a rhythm of moving his fingers in and out while he bobbed his head and alternated sucking and pressing his tongue against Dean’s length. He was spurred on with every moan, groan and whisper of his name that escaped Dean’s lips in a rushed breath.

Cas was gradually increasing his speed and pressure in time with Dean’s reactions when there was a hard knock at the bedroom door. Cas almost stopped but Dean’s hand shot out and urged him to continue.

“Don’t stop,” Dean whispered and so he didn’t. “Yeah!” Dean shouted with a strain.

The handle turned but it didn’t give. “Dean, it’s Claire!” she called from the other side, mildly annoyed.

Dean groaned quietly and lifted his head, Cas looked to him to see him looking right at him. He got the feeling that he was trying not to distract himself from what was happening.

“I need you to come with me on that job,” she explained further, the end of her sentence came across like a question but it was more of a statement. “Hannah said she told you.”

Dean let his head fall to the pillow again. “God, Cas,” he muttered again and Cas was spurred on and so he continued with renewed enthusiasm. “Yeah,” Dean’s voice shook and wavered so he tried again, almost shouting, “Yeah! I’ll- I’ll shower and then we-, we can go!”

“Okay,” she said and her boots could be heard walking away.

Dean lifted his leg and inhaled quickly as the feeling started to intensify since Cas had picked up his rhythm. “Cas, Cas-!” He swallowed dryly. “Castiel-!” Cas wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Dean say his full name and he had to move forward a little, feeling Dean pull away from him minutely.

Cas sucked harder and pushed his hand in harder but not faster as he heard Dean whack his hand off of the headboard of his bed. Dean felt his crotch began to buzz and warm, his hips seemed to want to gyrate on their own even as Cas’ hand rocked him with its movements.

“Cas, huh-,” he inhaled quickly, “honey, I’m gonna-!”

Dean groaned loudly and tensed as he came in Cas’ mouth. Cas swallowed twice, keeping his rhythm and listening for the tell-tale exhale from Dean to signal the end and he stopped. He slowly pulled his mouth off and then gently lifted Dean’s testicles before pulling his fingers out of Dean. He looked at his hand and felt himself lick his own lips without meaning to before rubbing them off on the sheets.

“Tell ya,” Dean said and shifted his limbs on the sheet, “that’s a better wake up than coffee any day of the week.” He rubbed his hair quickly and resettled on the pillow.

Cas leaned over him and kissed his jaw, settling on his elbows over him. “So, first beer and now I’m coffee.”

Dean exhaled a chuckle. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he said and lifted his hands to the side of Cas’ face and shoulder. “You’re more like pie.”

“Why is that?” Cas asked in his ear.

“S’my favourite,” Dean said as they looked at each other and smiled before they kissed. “And it feels good around my dick,” Dean mumbled and smiled when Cas broke out into loud laughter and had to lean his head on Dean’s chest as he laughed. “What do you think I did with that pie you made me,” Cas looked up, “ate it?”

Cas laughed once more and shook his head. “That’s a completely different kind of birthday present.”

Dean hummed. “Yeah, it is.” They laughed again and Dean pulled him in for a kiss. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything for you right now.”

“It’s okay,” Cas said and kissed him again. “Thank you for last night.”

Dean was visually surprised. “What did I do?”

“Letting me come here and stay with you,” he said. “It was perfect.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah…” His eyes roamed Cas’ face. “Yeah, it was,” he said and nodded. “Just what I needed.”

Cas kissed him again. “Claire is waiting for you,” he said.

Dean hummed again. “Yeah,” he said. “Gotta go to work.” He lifted to kiss Cas again. “I’m already running late.”

“Sorry about that,” Cas said with a smile.

Dean smiled too. “Yeah, you should be.” It suddenly fell and he sighed. “I hate this,” he said but didn’t give Cas time to react as he shifted under Cas. “Alright, I need to go now or I’ll keep you here all day.”

Cas moved off of straddling Dean and leaned on his elbow to shift more so that he could lie on his back beside him, as he fixed the sheet beside him Dean took the opportunity to give him a slap on the left buttock as he stood up.

Cas turned to look at Dean as he stood up to find his pants and pull them on before he sat down to put socks on. Cas smiled just as Dean leaned back up and exhaled, the manner in which he did so gave away he dislike of the task ahead. Cas moved behind Dean who waited suspiciously on what it meant.

He smiled coyly when he felt Cas settle behind him with his knees against Dean’s hips and kissed his neck. “Cas…” Dean closed his eyes. “…tiel.”

Cas hummed. “You don’t often use my full name,” he said. “Does that mean that you want me to stop?”

Dean exhaled in frustration. “No, I don’t,” Dean said. He really didn’t want to go out there, to join the real world and leave this fantasy world behind. Every fibre of his being felt irritated knowing that he was going to have to walk away from Cas and he wondered what that meant; was it because he needed a break, or because his body knew it was a heat behind, or was it that this was a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. Either way, he hated himself a little bit, his brain taunting him with the idea that if he wasn’t so invested in keeping his work and private life apart then they could spend a little longer together.

The despondent tone in his voice made Cas stop and lean his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Dean shook his head and leaned it against Cas’ chest. “Nothing,” he said and paused, his eyes becoming far away as he thought something that made him laugh with an exhale through his nose.

“What?” Cas asked.

“I was just thinking, I’ve been training for this job since I was four years old and I’ve hated it many times. I don’t know exactly when it stopped being what was expected of me and what I wanted to do every day. Sometimes I wonder if it ever did.” He shrugged. “But like I said I’ve hated it many times; not because it was a bad job but because I wanted to be a kid or a fireman or run a bar or anything else. But, it was never because I was lazy.” He tilted his head up to look at Cas. “Yet I could easily stay in bed with you all day.”

Cas seemed to blanche with surprise and he didn’t know what to say and therefore said, “I can’t, I have to go to work.”

Dean burst out laughing and leaned forward before turning back to Cas and nodding then leaned forward to stand again. “Yeah, my mistake,” he agreed.

Cas leaned back on the balls of his feet. “You should come and stay with me on a Friday,” he said.

Dean turned to look at him. “Why Friday?”

Cas hesitated before he swallowed and said simply, “Saturday morning.”

Dean smiled before he began gathering things up for his shower and thought about how damn fantastic that would be. But it sounded too good to be anything other than fantasy. Right?

“May I enquire,” Cas started, “how I’m going to slip out of here unnoticed?”

“Well, Sam’s got court this morning so you could shower and get breakfast here before you head to work. Ash usually controls the kitchen until nine when he goes into overdrive. And he already thinks you’re a hunter so you’re fine.”

“What if they ask me questions?” Cas asked.

Dean already had an answer ready, “Say you hunt a bit of everything because that invites less specific questions and, if anyone asks how we know each other, you can say that we co-oped a case in-. Where are you from again?”

“I was born in Illinois,” Cas said.

“There,” Dean agreed. “Say you took a bullet for me or something, explains how you got in so quickly.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this,” Cas said.

“I have,” Dean said with a nod and looked at him. “When I was waiting for you last night I was trying to think how I could keep you next to me all night.” He smiled and headed towards the door.

Cas looked to his hands in front of him before he nodded to himself. “Well, that was a good reason,” he muttered to himself. He looked up as the door opened again and Dean walked in, closing the door behind him.

He walked to Cas, leaning down and kissing him, making Cas lean up and wrap his hands around Dean’s back for the few seconds they were joined.

“In case you’re asleep when I come back,” he said and kissed Cas again quickly before heading back towards the door. Cas saw him dip his head out for a second before he turned to face Cas as he began to close the door. “Set your alarm,” he whispered and then disappeared.

Cas smiled a little and then rolled over in Dean’s bed, pulling the cover over himself and mentally reassuring himself that his cell phone alarm was already set.

He fell asleep quick enough that when Dean returned a few minutes later – being used to a very quick shower due to his father’s standards and the cold water the motels offered up – he was already fast asleep. He dressed for work and looked down at Cas; he knew that all he wanted to do was stay in bed with him and he was sure Cas knew it from what he’d said. He thought back to what Cas had said about Saturday mornings and it warmed him in a way he was unfamiliar with. It was a simple statement but so much more was implied that relied on the previous conversations they’d had. No one else would understand just how much it meant to either of them and that made it mean even more to Dean. But that would never be reality, he knew that.

When Dean had told Cas about the history of the bunker he wasn’t exaggerating: when it was built it was designed with the end of the world in mind and to those that were convinced this was necessary were also sure that there would be some threat to their new way of life. Now, whether this was zombies or animals or grievances between their new civilisation Dean could never decide but either way they saw fit to have an armoury in the bunker. It was perfectly set out, down to the foundations, for that purpose and couldn’t be fit for any other use.

However, Dean was old fashioned; he was brought up to have one trusted piece of equipment he knew well and that knew him and he was brought up to keep it a hell of a lot closer than along the corridor. When he’d known that Cas was coming he’d moved his gun from under his pillow to where he headed now: to the framed vinyl album cover of _Hey Jude_ behind which he revealed a wall safe. He typed in 0-5-0-2-8-3 and it clicked open. Inside was the same cream and silver gun that had bounced across the garage floor away from Dean in a holster, an envelope, handcuffs and a badge. He took out the gun and fixed it in the holster to his right side, then took out the cuffs and fixed them to his left. He walked to the door to put his jacket on and when it caught on his cuffs he righted it without a seconds pause as he walked back to the safe to take the envelope out which he slipped into the inside of his jacket. He reached in again for the badge but paused to take a look at the object at the very back of the safe: sitting, squashed against the back wall of the safe and staring right at him was a small, dark brown bear with a light nose and paws holding a carrot. It was worn, old, and quite clearly had been sitting in the safe for quite a while. Dean turned to check that Cas was still asleep and then reached his hand in to give the bear’s foot a squeeze, it was affectionate as it was very dear to him. No one knew it was in there – not even Sam, whose bear it used to be when he was a baby. He tucked his badge in his pocket, closed the safe and then closed the frame back over before leaving Cas asleep.

As Dean left the room and walked towards the main room he barely noticed the quiet murmur of the bunker awakening, the blinking of the corridor still warming up for the day, the smell of warmth from bodies and machines as well as the faint whiff of breakfast from the few early-risers.

Instead he was thinking about what it would be like to wake up on a Saturday morning in bed with Cas; for some reason he saw them in Cas’ bed in Cas’ house and himself in Cas’ arms. He was sure he could smell books, fresh sheets and bacon. He smiled to himself and it didn’t seem to leave his face for the rest of the morning.

>><< 

Cas rolled over when the alarm on his cell phone rang out and he dragged himself out of sleep but then hurried to his coat and fished it out to stop the noise. He froze and listened for any indication that someone knew he was there. He stood for a few seconds, his ears seemed to prickle as they actively searched for sounds. He closed his eyes when he didn’t hear anything at all and sighed, allowing himself a few moments to wake up before he calculated how long it would take him to drive to work from here.

He made sure he was presentable then gathered up the rest of his things so that he didn’t have to risk going in and out of Dean’s room again. He paused at the door and softly released the lock before slowly pulling the door inward. He edged his head out of the room and looked right; along the corridor there were people going in and out of the bathroom that Dean had taken him to last night. He instinctively ducked back in and then paused when no one came walking towards him before sticking his head out again, taking the chance to look left before he looked back to the commotion; while there were a lot of people no one seemed to have noticed him or cared. He stepped out and used his hand behind him to let the door gently close at his back, staring nervously at the crowds, expecting every single person there to suddenly look at him accusingly.

The buzz of activity and distant talking was insistent and in contrast to the ringing silence that he'd experienced the night before. He took a step to his left as he began walking towards the bathroom so that anyone that saw him would be more likely to associate him with the rooms on the opposite side of Dean’s. However, as he came to stand in the junction of the corridors he began to wonder if he were still dreaming, people were going passed, in and out of rooms and the bathroom, exchanging words, advice and paperwork, apparently unaware that he existed.

He was so unsure of where to go that he just stood there feeling inept. He had to sidestep to let a small, slim man with short, dark hair out passed him. Unbeknownst to Cas the usually warm and friendly Garth was withdrawn, gaunt and avoiding eye contact.

However, he did take a second look at Cas as he passed, recognising the pants he was wearing as ones that Sam had borrowed from Dean after a relapse many years ago. He remembered them because they barely reached Sam's calves and Dean had remarked that it was his punishment for relapsing. His brow dipped as the door closed between him and the stranger before he shook his head and ran off.

Cas decided to take it one step at a time and – for once in his life – blend in. If not for him, for Dean. He nodded to himself and stepped into the restroom then headed to the closest stall to urinate. He then left his things on a bench composed of three wooden bars before dipping into the only available shower stall. While he had been washing – and admonishing himself for not thinking of showering tonight instead – Sam had made his way into the bathroom after only a few hours sleep and more research before his court appointment. Neither were aware of each other which is why Cas never felt particularly anxious or hurried when he stepped out of the shower, dried himself and dressed as Sam was turning the water off and staring ahead while something crucial to his appointment popped into his head that threatened the whole case.

Cas dressed as Sam was mentally trying to figure out a way around this setback, his thoughts slowed his actions down then sped them up again while he shook his head and gritted his teeth, needlessly lecturing himself in his head.

Cas stepped in front of the mirror to put his trench coat on. He fixed the collar, looked around the room, decided that it seemed empty so he inhaled and looked ahead while Sam was squeezing some water out of his hair and reaching for his towel.

“I’m a hunter,” Cas said and Sam paused. “I’m a hunter,” he said more confidently and Sam’s brow dipped in amused confusion as he listened. “I’m a hunter from Illinois.”

He exhaled and made for the door just as Sam leaned out of the stall to see the end of his coat disappear through the closing door. Sam’s face dropped in shock then his eyes fell to the floor before moving to the wall of the cubicle while he straightened his back. After a few seconds he assured himself that it was a coincidence, however – given what he’d heard the night before – he wasn’t entirely convinced and yet could not run off to determine whether he was going crazy or not. Not in the nude.

Cas stopped in the corridor and suddenly remembered that he had no idea what way to go. He looked around, finding very few people around now except for one woman who was heading into the bathroom.

“Excuse me,” Castiel said and she stopped beside him, looking at him.

“Yes?” she said.

“I’m sorry but I’m new here, what direction is the kitchen?” Cas asked, hoping she wouldn’t look at him too closely.

She paused and seemed to ask herself a question – namely, how desperately she needed to use the bathroom – before she cocked her head to her right and said, “I’ll show you.” She then turned and walked away to what would have been Cas left.

“Thank you,” Cas said and followed her unhurried pace.

She paused at the corridor junction for Cas to catch up and then walked off again, at his side. “You’re new,” she repeated and Cas, once upon a time, might have been confused however years of Meg Masters repeating his own words had taught him that she was prompting him for more information.

“I’m a hunter,” Cas replied in a panic.

She looked to him and he watched her hazel eyes settle on his and she gently smiled. “I guessed that,” she said.

He felt reassured by her answer and nodded to himself.

She continued to regard him and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you from out of state?”

“Illinois,” Cas said and then remembered what Dean had told him about state FRA licenses. “Originally,” he added. “I was on a job through there and ran into Dean, it was beneficial that we worked together so when I moved to Kansas I got in touch with him to find a way into the business here.” Cas was suddenly aware that he was being confronted by smells of bacon and egg coming from somewhere close by. There were also sounds of distant chatter that brought his anxieties surging back to the back of his throat; his entire relationship with Dean relied on not being found out and in that moment it was the most horrifying thing he could think of.

Pamela looked forward and tilted her head as she considered this and then they stopped just before an open doorway on the right and turned to put their backs against the walls and let two men pass them. “That was smart,” she said and Cas considered that she didn’t know just how right she was, in relation to his ad-lib. “Sam and Dean might not have the widest net of hunters in the country but they know the best-.” They turned into the kitchen and Cas followed her a step behind.

It had cream brick walls and grey ceilings as well as linoleum floor. If Cas, or anyone, had looked close he would have seen a faint line in the flooring; the kitchen used to be a lot smaller than it currently was since Dean had had it extended during a renovation. It was now double its original size, included a second open doorway at the other end and sat twenty-eight which was a marked improvement on the eight it originally fed.

Currently there were thirteen people sitting at the wooden, picnic-style bench table to Cas’ left – most of whom had food in front of them – and a familiar face at the grill on the right with an apron and diner chef’s hat on while a young man poured himself a drink a few feet away from the chef.

“-hunters and cops,” Pamela finished as she approached Ash at the grill. He turned towards her and Cas saw that his apron had the word ‘Roadhouse’ printed on it.

“Back for seconds?” Ash asked as he teased an egg frying in a pan in front of him.

“Nah, showing a newbie where he can get some breakfast,” she said.

Ed had finished pouring himself fresh orange juice and was making his way back to the table, in the process he had to walk passed the trio and took the opportunity to pause behind Ash and comment, “Or food poisoning.”

“You’re barred!” Ash said as Ed walked away.

“Thank you,” Cas said to Pamela and she saluted him before she left back the way she came with more haste than before.

“What can I get you compadre?” Ash asked, looking at his pan but his head tilted his Cas’ direction.

“Um,” Cas said and checked the clock on the wall above the far doorway, “something that you can cook and I can eat in three minutes?”

Ash snorted. “Cutting it fine this morning?” he said and Cas hummed. “No problem. Mick?” he called over his shoulder and a man at the table turned his top half to look behind him – a few others at the table also looked as they’d been having a conversation – and Cas looked to him. He had hair slightly lighter than Castiel’s but his five o’clock shadow reminded Cas that he needed to shave and he ran his hand over his chin, feeling it shorter than he expected. “Can I bump you down since-?”

He looked to Cas who was suddenly aware they were looking at him and panicked. “Castiel,” he said and immediately wished he hadn’t.

“-Castiel is running late?” Ash said, still without looking over his shoulder.

“No,” Mick aimed at Ash in an accent that told Cas he was from England but which part escaped him.

“You’re a gentleman,” Ash said, as if Mick had heartily agreed.

Mick sighed, nodded to Cas to show he bared no grudge and then returned to his conversation, taking toast from a friend’s plate to sustain him until he was eventually fed.

Ash held out a plate of two pancakes to Cas who took it and gestured to a stool beside him. Cas put the plate down and pulled the stool close enough to sit. “Thank you,” he said, in truth he was not just grateful for the food but for the excuse not to sit amongst the others and perhaps draw attention to himself. He picked up cutlery and prepared for his breakfast, however brief it might be.

“I know you,” Ash said and Cas froze before he looked to him. He opened his mouth to speak however Ash got there first. “Oh, right!” He pointed to Cas for a second. “Deano’s, when I dropped off Charlie’s program.” He nodded to himself as he moved towards Cas to start mixing more pancake mix to feed Mick. “Were you two on a job?”

Cas took the last second to put pancake in his mouth but when Ash looked at him – wondering why he was silent – and in a panic, he shook his head. He then rushed to finish his mouthful with absolutely no idea what he was going to say until he said, “I needed his advice on a case.” He paused, decided that was as good an answer as any and then ate more pancake.

“He’s good for advice,” Ash agreed. “Dean’s the best hunter there is.”

Hannah leaned between them to get a napkin and she paused to say, “Don’t let Sam hear you say that.” She then looked at Cas and smiled slowly. “Hello,” she said.

Cas was in the middle of eating and, since he was already rushing, couldn’t hurry up more so just raised his hand in greeting and tried a smile however a piece of pancake fell into his lap and he broke eye contact to locate it. She seemed disappointed as she turned away.

“He hasn’t left yet?” Ash asked over his shoulder as she began to move away.

She stopped. “It’s been postponed,” she said. “He just got off the call, they forgot to apply for the child to live with her aunt while she’s at rehab so it’s been put off. He’s just coming now.” She gestured to the door opposite the one that Cas had come in through.

Ash nodded, satisfied with the answer, and she walked away, glancing back to Cas who was suddenly getting to his feet. “Sorry, I have to go,” Cas said and gestured to the last half of a pancake, indicating that he was taking it with him, as he added, “Thank you for the breakfast.”

Ash saluted and moved to the table to put the food down in front of Mick while Cas swept towards the far doorway.

“Finally!” Mick said and looked up to his left at Ash just as Hannah jumped out of her seat, nearly falling over, and hopped a few times to get her balance just as she took Cas’ left arm with enough insistence that he turned.

“Sammy!” Ash exclaimed as he put his hand on Mick’s face to shove him away and Mick dipped his head and swatted his hand away. He walked back to the grill as Sam stopped at the fridge to grab a bottle of water and Cas watched him. “What’s the deal with court, they gonna let you apply for guardianship?”

“It was nice to meet you,” Hannah said.

Cas was watching Sam turn as he closed the fridge and walk towards Ash. He knew this was dangerous that’s why he started to exit as soon as he knew he was coming: it wasn’t that Sam would have any idea who he was or suddenly sense he wasn’t who he said he was, there was just too much as stake to take the chance. And yet he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on him. Dean’s brother, Dean’s charge; the baby carried from a fire, raised by his big brother, banished by his real father as a traitor for wanting his own life, the kid who succumbed to the pressures of reality in the worst way and the man who was pushing through, still stumbling but getting back up. Cas had heard so much about this man he felt like he was standing in the same room as a legend, a mirage, a folk’s tale. There was a certain draw about a miracle and Cas was not immune, especially when this miracle was, in no small part, Dean’s doing.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a nod and looked to the grill when Ash gestured. “Yeah, go on then,” he said, feeling weary and in need of something more substantial than his usual smoothie or granola. “Bacon roll, please. Have you seen Dean?”

Ash took bacon from the cooler at the side of the cooker – something he used to save himself going back and forward to the refrigerator – and separated slices to put on the grill.

“I’m Hannah,” Hannah said, attempting to sidestep the awkward silence. “You?” She held out her hand.

“He’s working with Claire,” Ash said as the bacon started to sizzle. “They left ridiculously early.”

“He always does,” Sam said.

“Castiel,” Cas said and shook her hand once before looking at her and adding, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” He’d chanced observation long enough and knew he should get out as fast as possible; the longer he stood there the more he wanted to know, the more he worried about Sam and his problems as well as their impact on Dean.

“His protégé is here though,” Ash said and gestured to the door where, when Sam looked, a man in a cream coat was putting his hand on the frame and walking out of it.

Sam had looked but looked away again before he connected what he was seeing with what he knew and so he missed which way he turned. He ran to the end of the kitchen and stopped to look right, missing the coat disappearing around the corner behind him before he stepped out. He glanced behind him then moved off into the main room, rushing to look up at the door that lead into the street. He took the metal stairs three at the time and pulled the heavy door open before he trotted up the winding staircase, trying to use his hand on the slim bannister to pull himself up quicker but, infuriating as it was, he had to remind himself that this bunker was not built with exits in mind.

He burst through the plain, grey door and exhaled before running up the five steps into the road. He looked around him, everything a blur, and ran his hand through his hair to get it out of his face. He exhaled slower and shook his head, wondering what had got into him that he’d chase a random stranger through the bunker with the mad idea that it was someone Dean was keeping from him. He walked back to the door and yanked it open with a shake of his head asking himself what reason Dean would have for hiding anyone from him.

Behind him, in the distance, Castiel was emerging from the garage – which was the only way he knew in and out of the bunker or Sam might have caught him – and looking around him, worried Sam was going to follow him out of the door there. He'd managed to slip out of the door with other hunters but he turned when the wall lifted and a car slowly drove up the ramp he’d just climbed. He didn’t recognise the driver who assumed he was nothing to do with the bunker or he’d surely have parked inside.

He got into his car and exhaled before he drove away while Sam was remerging in the kitchen to Ash holding out a roll without even questioning what had happened.

As Cas drove his mind drifted over everything from that morning without his permission. He thought about what Dean had said: that any other father would be thrilled if their child had been awarded a scholarship however Dean’s father was so angry that he threw Sam out onto the streets as if, by achieving this, he’d abandoned them. Cas considered that Dean blindly leaving his firefighting training when his father told him to made a lot more sense when he remembered that Dean probably had to watch his baby brother walk away, towards college, towards Jess, towards drugs, and towards a second fire, all of which would have belatedly proved their father right.

The more he thought about it, the more Dean’s six years heat suppression after just one bad experience made perfect sense.

>><< 

The bunker that Sam and Dean had made so prominent in their lives was a curious place – the brothers had put their own stamp on it to make it not only functioning but  _theirs_ , it was the kind of stamp that left it a mixture of the past and the present with scatterings of the future throughout.

The main entrance was a nondescript heavy grey door – down three steps – in the side of a seemingly innocent dip in a mound of earth at the side of a road on the outskirts of an industrial estate. That estate was built over a war bunker that was repurposed for when the population was convinced that computers throughout the world would not be able to handle the switch from 1999 to 2000 and malfunction to the brink of annihilating the planet using its own creations.

Dean had added a keypad at the side – at Ash’s suggestion – which had a small area of black glass at the top where hunters would place their key cards before entering their pin-code to enter the base. It was the same at the garage entrance that Cas had managed to slip out of that morning.

Inside there was a narrow, spiral, black iron staircase that clearly did not have speed or accessibility in mind. That was further evidenced by the small circular room it was encased in. There was another door at the bottom that seemed less security conscious in appearance but was in fact accompanied by a thumb print scanner that registered blood pressure. In Dean’s opinion it was overkill however, after Sam had been stabbed outside a courthouse three years before he realised there was no such thing when it came to his family’s safety.

Coming through the door Charlie and her friend emerged on the second level of an iron mezzanine that held just an armchair and coffee table with a descending staircase between the pair and them. The room they emerged into was listed as the “war room” on the blueprints and was originally kitted out with a ham radio, telegraph and switchboard while a table with an illuminated map stood alone in the middle. Since its update, Ash had added a satellite communications system and a flat screen monitor on the wall in the corner above the bunker’s computing system that replaced the switchboard. In the middle of the room the table had been updated so that it too was an interactive screen with a direct uplink to a defunct military satellite that Ash should not have even been able to _find_ , never mind connect devices to and actually use. But he had. All of the bunker’s files were on the system, which could be accessed at any of the monitors dotted randomly throughout the bunker as well as through logging into the system via permitted devices – all of which Ash, Charlie and Sam maintained – and it was in this way that Charlie intended to use her new programme which would collate all of the files into one standard search engine to improve the hunters’ efficiency. However, all of this relied on the hunters sharing their information which, in turn, had to be correct.

While the slim pillars supporting the mezzanine were iron to match the staircase and railings the main structure of the bunker seemed to be white marble, which fit in with the art deco design. Dean had seen no reason to change it; it was easy to clean and it wasn’t hard to fit any new editions in. The only room that was slightly different was the main room of the bunker, just off of the war room. On the blueprints it was listed as “library” and, when the brothers first explored the bunker, the catalogue consisted of rare first editions and an array of survival handbooks that were of no use to a base for bounty hunters. Yet, even after selling many of the first editions to pay for the base refurbishment, the name for the room stuck. Some of the hunters nicknamed it the "research room" because it's where most of the hunters did just that. The bookshelves now were filled with gun handbooks, roadmaps, medical dictionaries, state-by-state detainment regulations and diaries that depict opening times and holidays for various bail departments throughout the country.

Sam was lounging in a chair at one of the three solid, dark oak tables in the brick-lined library, his feet were resting on the surface with his left leg crossed over his right. He was so absorbed in reading the file of his latest bail that he didn’t notice Charlie stop at the bottom of the staircase and look up to her friend who was still taking it all in; her brunette hair was in a ponytail, midway up the back of her head, which let her diamond stud earrings show, she had reflexively put her hands back in the deep pockets of her loose, khaki military jacket which pulled it down over her jeans and revealed the lemon yellow blouse she had on. Charlie smiled and waited until the woman turned and jogged to join her, taking her hands from her pockets to assure she didn’t lose her balance. Charlie paused to point to where Sam was and waited for her friend to nod before they made towards him.

It took the noise of the women’s walking boots on the iron stairs for Sam to realise he wasn’t alone anymore and he looked up to see Charlie and a woman he didn’t know walking gingerly towards him so he sat up properly and put his feet back on the floor.

“Hey,” he said as he put the file on the table.

“Have you not got a case?” Charlie asked as her and her friend came to a stop in front of him.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “A couple actually, waiting on a guardianship being granted, a call from a manager on another and another to come out of a coma.” Both of the women’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah,” he agreed. “What are you guys on?” He looked to Charlie’s friend and she smiled, acknowledging his attention. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied, her voice had a rasp to it that indicated that she was deaf, this was further noted by the way she lifted her hands to the back of her ears and adjusted her hearing aids, the density in the bunker clearly affecting them.

“This is Eileen,” Charlie said and Sam offered her his hand. “And _this_ is Sam,” Charlie said, looking at Eileen who looked at her before she nodded, and returned Sam’s handshake while looking into his eyes with a smile he returned. The infliction to Charlie’s voice indicated that Eileen had been told about Sam before meeting him.

“One half of the famous duo,” Eileen said and they shook their hands one last time then relinquished the other’s grasp, somewhat reluctantly.

Sam looked down as he chuckled embarrassed. “Is that what they say?” he asked and used his newly free hand to tuck his hair back behind his left ear.

“All I’m going to tell you,” Eileen answered and Sam laughed again, Charlie’s eyes moved between them, feeling the electricity. She tried to remember the last time she’d seen Sam genuinely laugh, or Dean. And then she wondered if the brothers had ever had anything in their lives that wasn’t to do with the job.

“Are you new?” Sam asked, his brow dipping a little as he failed to place her face in his memory. Charlie was sure it implied that he would certainly remember her if he’d seen her before.

“To the job, no; to the state, yes,” Eileen replied.

“Another migration,” Charlie interjected and when Sam looked to her so did Eileen, Sam’s brow dipped when he couldn’t think what she meant. “Pamela told me about Dean’s.”

“Dean’s what?” Sam said.

“She said she met a hunter in the bunker this morning that Dean let in, he had a funny name.”

Sam looked to the table while he tried to think but shook his head slowly when he couldn’t place who she was referring to. His eyes slowly lifted back to Charlie who just raised her eyebrows in question.

“I hoped it’d be okay,” she prompted.

Sam suddenly nodded. “Oh, yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “I mean, usual checks,” Charlie nodded fervently, “and Dean’s approval. But,” he looked to Eileen and smiled, “yeah, welcome.”

She smiled too and they shared a look for a few seconds.

Sam suddenly looked back to Charlie. “Did Pamela say what he looked like?”

Charlie shrugged. “Dark hair, overcoat.”

“A cream trench coat?” Sam asked, suddenly straightening his back as Eileen looked between their lips to keep up.

“I have no idea,” Charlie said. “Why?”

“And he said he was a hunter?” Sam asked, ignoring the question.

She paused and narrowed her eyes with a scoff. “Well, why else would he be here?” she said.

Sam realised how ridiculous he sounded. “Sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m just getting restless, waiting for this call.” He wiped his face. “What are you two up to?” He looked between them but his eyes lingered on Eileen.

“I have court in an hour, I just wanted to bring Eileen into the fold and perhaps get her started,” Charlie said.

“Something in the works?” Sam asked her.

“Nothing yet,” Eileen said. “It’s been hard to make connections.”

Sam nodded. “Do you want to help catch a drug user?” he offered. “Break you in?”

She smiled. “So you can scout me out?”

Sam laughed again and Charlie was almost sure they’d forgotten she was there. “She’s good,” Charlie said and then put her arm on Eileen’s to make her look at her. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Eileen nodded and Charlie looked at Sam, winked and walked away. Eileen sat down across from Sam with the logic that he’d have to face her to talk; she often found that people she just met forgot that she needed to see their faces.

“So when-?” Sam began but looked down when his cell phone rang, making a mildly confused Eileen follow his eyeline and see the screen lit up. “Sorry,” he said and Eileen nodded to him before he answered it. “Sam Winchester,” he said into the mic and then paused. “Mr Franco, thank you for getting back to me.” He nodded. “I need to know about one of your employees.” His face tightened and he nodded again, expecting the answer he was receiving. “Yes, I know.” He pursed his lips and waited to talk again. “No, you’re right, I’m not police but-.” He was interrupted again. “Mr Franco, one of your employees has been charged with drug use and is connected to a dealer. I haven’t checked with the local PD yet, but don’t you think that – if she is part of some dealing ring or whatever – she could be doing it through your premises?” He paused when the man on the other side began to protest. “And then if local start looking into you because she was doing it right under your nose, how do you think the management will appreciate that?” There was a brief pause before he smiled and looked across at Eileen. “I’m looking for Amelia Richardson.” He looked up. “She’s working this afternoon?” He pushed his chair out. “What time?”

Eileen began to stand up too and Sam pointed to the doorway in the war room that lead along into the bunker, indicating the garage, as they took off. Sam had to reassure the man on the other end of the phone that he wouldn’t tell his boss or get him into any trouble so he didn’t have a chance to show her the layout of the base. However Eileen looked to the left as they passed the far end of the kitchen that Sam had chased Cas out of that very morning; she turned her head to the right to look down the short corridor that lead to the stairwell on the right and the refuse area on the left; she turned her head to the left again to look down a longer corridor with five doors on each side, one for each of the first ten bedrooms and a monitor on the wall at the end; there was yet another row of ten rooms – and a monitor – with an open bathroom door on the right where Dean and Cas had done their midnight dashes; there was one final row of five bedrooms, a monitor in the corner, and two heavy metal doors across from them however Sam went through a doorway to the right of it. Eileen missed the doorway behind them as they walked through into the garage because she was too interested in the doors that would not have been out of place in a nuclear station; the single doorway was only for a supply room which wasn’t as interesting as the armoury that lay behind the metal doors yet she did feel the vibration of movement inside and turned at the last second to see the door close over quickly.

Garth stayed in the darkness hoping that no one would come in, his heart beat faster and he felt hairs stand up on his neck. When he heard the footsteps moving away and was definite that they weren’t going to come back to this room he continued his rummage in the medical supplies cupboard. The room was pitch black but he didn’t need the light on to see, he wasn’t sure if that was a side effect of having stole away inside the bunker for so long or not but either way he could see the faded red plus sign on one of the medical cabinets in the corner of the supply cupboard. He felt the sweat run down his back and he grabbed the shelf, he bared his teeth and felt a rumble in his throat; he had no idea what was happening to him, it felt similar, as if he were acting out the mechanics of helping an omega through a heat – the hot flushes, the anger, the growling, the sharpening of his senses – but without the need for sex, or indeed the presence of an omega. He felt constantly thirsty as if water just wasn’t enough for him and he had frequent bouts of dizziness as if his sugar level was far too low, it made him crave something rich like honey or caramel.

There was no preamble: one minute they were in the tiled corridor of the bunker and then next they were in the cold, stone garage that extended forward just over six car lengths until it came to the in and out ramps that went up to the right, on the left the room extended the nearly the same distance but was much wider to accommodate the twenty-five car spaces marked against the three walls and the section in the far corner for motorbikes. Eileen was distracted from looking back by the smells that hit her as she stepped inside – oil, petrol, soap, rubber, wax – and she stopped to look around. Immediately to Eileen’s right as she stepped into the room was one empty parking spot on its own – it was clearly marked with plenty of space on all four sides so that no one needed to go near it to go in and out of the bunker. She began following Sam again and noticed as she looked back while she passed that there was a plaque on the wall that said, _‘DEAN’S SPACE’_ in clear, capital letters with, _‘PARK HERE AND YOU’RE BARRED, NO EXCEPTIONS’_ underneath. She paused to read a piece of paper taped underneath that that read, _‘THAT INCLUDES YOU SAM’._ It also had a shelf in the corner with supplies such as sponges and wax.

She smiled and continued following Sam. On the right against the wall was a hose on a reel with a drain on the floor just underneath it and a shelving unit to the left held car maintenance supplies such as oil, screen wash, upholstery cleaner, glass cleaner, squeegees, air freshener, de-icer, jump leads, an industrial sized bottle of soap and on the bottom shelf were eight buckets with sponges in them. There were also gas cans at the back for emergencies. She didn’t notice a heavy metal door with warning signs to keep out or risk electrocution to her left because she was too interested in what she saw on her right, just before the ramps leading out of the base; there were two parking spots parallel to the wall marked only by two machines that looked like petrol pumps attached to the recently painted walls. She noticed that there were two lightning bolts painted on the wall above the spaces but thought that the colour seemed slightly off.

“What are they for?” Eileen asked, pointing as they stopped to turn left.

Sam turned to look and then waited for her to look back to him. “Charge ports for electric cars,” he explained and walked to the driver door of a pickup in the parking space nearest them. “The floor still needs painted I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

She nodded appreciatively and jumped in the passenger side.

It was only as Sam had to pause just after the exit to the base to allow someone to park on the street did it occur to him that perhaps he missed Dean’s elusive visitor because he’d exited through the garage.

>><<

Cas was smiling to himself as he pulled into the garage at work but it fell when he saw Becky running towards his car. He got out and his good feeling disappeared completely when he saw Samandriel following her.

“Sir,” Becky said, slightly breathless as she approached and slowed. “It’s-.”

Samandriel stopped beside her. “Mr Adler has been arrested,” he interrupted.

“What happened?” Cas asked, looking at Becky.

“They think-,” she began.

“He’s been embezzling,” Samandriel interrupted again and Becky sighed.

“Embezzling?!” Cas cried out, still looking at Becky.

“He-,” Samandriel started.

“Can you let Becky talk!” Cas snapped, looking at him, and Samandriel’s head whipped back in surprise. “Go and update your team.” Harry was hurrying towards them from the stairwell.

“They know,” Samandriel said after recovering from the shock.

“Shurley then,” Cas tried, exacerbated.

“He knows as well,” Samandriel said, his voice less shocked and more confused.

“Then… just… go!” Castiel screamed at him, taking a quick breath between each word so that his face started to redden.

Becky looked between them, her attention focused on her boss who she had never seen so worked up. In the background Harry had stopped dead, remembered Cas’ reaction to him not so long ago, and then swiftly turned and ran back the way he came deciding that he’d wait in the office.

“Why are you still _here_!” Cas shouted, his question coming out as a statement instead.

Becky wasn’t sure what to do when Cas turned his attention back to her and so she continued to stare at him with her eyes wide before watching him sigh and then look back to Samandriel before raising an eyebrow pointedly and she allowed herself to look at the man next to her who suddenly looked like an embarrassed teenager. He shifted on his feet and then turned and stalked back to the building and she swore she could see his eyes turn red as if he were about to cry.

Cas took a breath. “What happened?” he asked her calmly.

“Do you remember the numbers that didn’t add up that I brought to your attention?” she asked and Cas nodded. “Well, Chuck-.” She suddenly flustered and then stuttered back into her sentence, “I-, I mean-, I mean Mr Shurley. Mr Shurley looked into it, he brought in a private consultant to look at everything and he found the anomalies which traced back to Mr Adler.”

“Let’s walk,” Cas said and she nodded before they headed to the elevator. “Was this Mr Adler or his team?”

“Definitely him, sir,” she said with a nod. “There is no member of his teams over the years that crossover.”

“Years? How long has this been going on?”

“Seven years,” she said as they stopped at the elevator. Cas paused with his right middle finger on the call elevator button and looked at her, he didn’t move until she nodded to confirm that he had heard her correctly. “He’d been extremely careful until recently, that’s the only reason it was caught.”

Cas exhaled audibly as the doors opened and they stepped in. Cas looked at the buttons and Becky watched him as he looked back to her, his face despondent and tired. “Do we have to?” She smiled empathetically. “What’s the fallout?” He looked back to the buttons and really wasn’t sure he could bring himself to press the right number.

She reached across and did it for him and the door immediately closed in front of him. “Massive,” she answered and Cas groaned, lowering his head into his right hand.

“I hate this job,” Cas muttered and Becky’s brow lifted in surprised and then dipped in worry.

Cas looked up as the elevator doors opened on his level and they were met with an almost deafening commotion, Becky stepped out and waited for him but he slowly staggered into the hallway. He looked straight ahead where uniformed officers were marching towards them with piles of cardboard boxes and Becky had to gently pull him to the side to let them into the elevator.

Ahead of them more officers were crossing over each other, in and out of doors, pushing passed Cas’ frenzied colleagues who were being followed by their panicked assistants who in turn were desperately trying to scribble down their notes fast enough.

Every other office in the building was directly connected to the corridor Cas and Becky were now stood in, except for Cas’. Halfway down the corridor there was a turn and then a short corridor that culminated in Cas’ office. Becky’s desk – and more recently Harry’s – was set up in that small space. Cas’ had specifically asked for this office that no one else seemed to want after learning that Becky was claustrophobic however he didn’t give this as his reason and Chuck only recently found out this fact for himself (in a completely different way). Harry’s temporary – and inferior – desk was dragged into place facing Becky’s, leaving a space for traffic to approach Cas’ door however a few officers had walked into the opening edge of Becky’s almost 360 degree desk.

Whatever the reason for this set up, it meant that Becky was aware of everything that was happening in the corridors outside everyone else’s offices. Which is why, when she noticed Cas’ attention on the four people just passed her work area she leaned towards him and filled him in; he didn’t know the two people in dark suits but he recognised their resident lawyer and their boss, Chuck Shurley. Brady seemed to be arguing aggressively while one of the officers stood with her hands on her hips and shaking her head as the other looked between them. Chuck, in contrast was moving his hands up and down in a pacifying gesture.

“Brady is arguing that this is an illegal search,” she said.

“Is it?” Cas asked. “Do they have a warrant?”

Becky nodded. “Yes, Mr Shurley wanted to give them permission but upstairs wouldn’t allow it.”

Castiel was still confused as to why everyone still referred to Shurley’s bosses as ‘upstairs’ when they weren’t even on the premises. He wondered if perhaps Dean could explain it to him and then he was reminded of that morning and sighed, he wasn’t sure if he’d have found the strength to even just exit the elevator if it hadn’t been for last night.

Brady waved his hands in the air, and then suddenly turned and barged passed Becky and Castiel.

“Fucking ridiculous!” he exclaimed and the pair turned to watch him storm away and walk right into a uniformed officer with two boxes who dropped them both, luckily they stayed closed.

“Watch where you’re-,” she started.

“Fuck off!” Brady screamed as he continued walking away.

“I’m sorry,” Chuck said to the pair he was standing with. “I apologise.” The pair nodded and walked off. Chuck unintentionally met Castiel and Becky at Becky’s desk and leaned towards the officer who was fixing the boxes on top of each other before lifting them again. “I’m sorry, officer,” he called down the corridor.

She nodded and walked away before Chuck turned to the pair.

“Everything okay?” Becky asked and put her right hand on Chuck’s left arm.

Castiel watched him visibly exhale and seem to calm. “Yeah, Brady is just-.” He sighed. “It’ll be fine.” He smiled at her. “Thank you.”

She smiled back and then they seemed to remember where they were and Becky dropped her hand while Chuck cleared his throat and looked to Cas. “Castiel,” he said and inhaled. “I assume Becky has caught you up.”

She nodded but it was Cas who answered. “This has to be a mistake,” Cas said to him.

Chuck shook his head. “He admitted it,” he said.

“How has this happened?” he looked behind him to his office, seeing the door was open and boxes were stacked around the area outside. He took steps towards it, lifting his left hand to scratch through his hair, wondering how the hell they were going to fix this.

Chuck followed him. “I don’t know,” he said. “They’re only taking the handover case file and anything else that Zachariah or his team has worked on.”

Cas turned to face Chuck. “So, none of us are under investigation?” Cas asked and Becky followed the pair.

“Should you be?” Chuck shot back and Becky’s mouth fell open while Cas’ brow dipped in hurt and Chuck shut his eyes as he lowered his head into his hands. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” He put his hand up to Cas. “I didn’t mean that.” He looked to Cas. “I apologise.”

Cas nodded. “What do we do?”

Harry appeared from Cas’ office with a clipboard in his hand and stood behind them, making Cas turn with the feeling that someone was near and then look back to Chuck.

“We have to check what has been handed over,” Chuck said and Harry held out the clipboard for Cas to take however Becky was the one who took it.

She walked towards him and guided him behind her boss, leading him to her desk, muttering, “Coat, coffee-.”

“Couple of minutes, I know,” Harry said. “But this is different.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said.

Chuck smiled to Cas who shrugged and then looked to the side when Harry appeared to take his coat and briefcase. “Sir,” he muttered and disappeared into the office.

Chuck raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in question at Cas who just smiled. “What do we do?” Cas asked again.

“We’ll make sure the right files have gone out,” Chuck said, “and then, unfortunately, everything needs to be rechecked.”

Cas’ brow dipped and Becky – who had shooed Harry to the kitchenette area at the end of the corridor – began to coax Cas’ jacket off his shoulders. “Didn’t your-?” He looked behind him. “Thank you,” he said and helped her. “Didn’t your private contractor do that?”

“Yes, but he was looking for specifics, we need to be seen to flushing anything else out.”

Cas sighed. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked and Chuck smiled. “I’ll quit,” he said and Chuck couldn’t help but laugh once before his face fell.

“Please don’t,” he said. “You’re the best accountant I’ve had in years.”

Harry appeared at that moment with four mugs in his hand and started handing out coffee. “Then we want more money,” he said and Cas actually laughed before he took a long drink, almost draining his cup.

They stood for a few minutes just drinking their coffee as if a bubble had surrounded them and was protecting the quartet from what was going on.

Cas was thinking too much to notice the looks Chuck and Becky were exchanging and Harry was too focused on the mark on Cas’ neck that he could have sworn was a hickie. It was the way Dean had laughed when Cas had told him why he hadn’t wanted to admit his circumcision that Cas was focused on; it hadn’t been mocking as far as he could tell, it had seemed highly compassionate and yet it invoked a horrible déjà vu of countless social misunderstandings of his childhood. Only, this time, it had been resolved in a way that made him feel lycan and – if he was honest – loved.

Cas put his cup down on Becky’s desk and his assistants followed suit, making Chuck look between them.

“When you’re ready?” Cas said and looked between them before they nodded. “Right,” he clapped his hands together. “Let’s get this started.” He turned and walked into his office.

Becky and Harry had been worried about how he was going to react to the situation so they shared a look before they dutifully followed him into his office, leaving Chuck to smile to himself and then walk away to deal with the rest of his building, confident that Castiel would be the last one to need his help.

“You’re surprisingly refreshed,” Becky observed as Cas rounded his desk.

“Good night?” Harry asked, eyes still on the mark peeking out of Cas’ collar and Becky looked to him then to Cas again.

Castiel looked up and slowly smiled. “Probably one of the best of my life,” he said and then sat down, not seeing Becky look at Harry with a questioning look and him swiftly point between the right side of his own neck to Cas.

She looked to Cas with her brow dipped then back to Harry before he stepped towards her and pointed but quickly lowered his hand when Cas looked up.

The pair smiled and Cas thought it a tad unnatural so he looked down again and Becky turned to Harry to have a silent conversation.

>><< 

Sam was driving with Eileen in the passenger seat, he was talking and looking at her periodically to make sure she was looking at him. “She has two kids and she’s been trying to make a break of it.”

“What about her kids, do we need to alert social services?”

“They’re with her mom,” Sam said and she nodded. “Her mom is the guardian and she’s trying to prove to her that she’s left that life behind. That means staying off the drugs and keeping a job.”

“That was her boss you spoke to on the phone?”

“Yeah,” Sam said and nodded. “She’s supposed to be in work in an hour. I thought we’d try her apartment first.” Eileen nodded. “Have a look.” He almost dropped the file as he retrieved it from the door pocket to hand it to her.

She spent a few blocks going over the details of what Sam had condensed for her and then she looked at the picture. It showed a coloured photo of a young woman in her thirties with dark hair that looked damaged from lack of care rather than recent maintenance, her skin was patchy but clearing and she was wearing a red polo shirt and name tag that told Eileen it was a photo taken for her employment ID.

“Where’d you get this?” she asked and indicated the photo.

Sam looked to it and then the road before he glanced to her to make sure she could see his face. “Her parole officer,” he said. “Her book-in photos are at the back.”

She flipped to the back and went through the last ten years of this woman’s life. The first few pictures showed a woman in her twenties with bleached hair, makeup that Eileen could tell had been impeccable at the start of the night but was still intact. There was a look in her eyes of someone not quite with the world and Eileen knew what the charges had to be even without knowing what she was on the run for. From then her hair, skin, clothes and expressions just increasingly got worse. A few times she even had black eyes or blood on her clothes. In one photo there was a shoulder of an officer next to her and the way she was leaning slightly forward told Eileen that she was being held in place for the photo; this was backed up by the uncomfortable expression on her face.

“She was training to be a vet,” Eileen said and the sombre way she said it made Sam look to her and then look away again.

She looked up from the file when Sam pulled into a parking space on the street outside an apartment block.

He touched her arm and she looked at him. “She’s been known to be aggressive so just be on your guard,” he advised.

“Yes, sir,” she said and they both smiled.

“How long have you been a hunter?” he asked.

“Too long,” she replied and Sam’s brow dipped as she then decided to get out of the car. He followed her lead. “I wanted to give up hunting when I moved out here but,” she looked to him as they closed their doors, “there’s not as many jobs for deaf women as you might think.”

Sam tried to smile sympathetically but she just shrugged. Looking past her Sam noticed Amelia’s car in the distance, it was parked facing away from them. “Her car’s still here,” he said and Eileen looked from him to where he was looking but couldn’t discern which he meant.

She followed him to the door of the apartment building; it was terracotta stonework and the very definition of rundown. From the minute she got to the open door she could smell a mix of herbs and spices and sauces that made her pause as if hit in the face. It took Sam a few steps inside to be hit with the same smells but it wasn’t as intense for him and he took a couple more steps before he realised she wasn’t directly behind him.

A girl in her teens was sitting three quarters of the way up the first staircase and using her cell phone despite having another one in her pocket. Her jacket was worn leather and wasn’t keeping her very warm at all however she refused to wear her favourite jacket anywhere but school because it was the only place she was guaranteed not to have it taken off of her. Her tennis shoes were in a worse condition and yet her grey jeans seemed to be brand new.

When Sam stopped and turned to look at Eileen the girl looked up from her phone and saw his hair sway gently before he turned back to look around and she saw the glint of his badge.

“S’pigs!” her voice boomed, making Sam looked to her. Eileen sensed a vibration and looked up to see the girl staring at them. “Police!” she called again, just to make sure everyone heard.

All around them people began to scuttle like vermin and doors began to crash closed. Dogs could be heard barking and children crying on upper floors.

“So much for the element of surprise,” Sam said and Eileen nudged his arm.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Loud mouth here just panicked everyone for no reason,” Sam said, loud enough to be heard before they began to climb. “Not police,” he said more directly at her.

“Five-Oh!” she announced again, just to annoy them.

“Not police,” Eileen said, climbing behind Sam but to the side to see the girl.

“That’s illegal” she said, looking between them. “You have to say if you’re asked.”

“Not police,” Sam and Eileen said at the same time.

“Bounty hunters,” Sam clarified. “Amelia Richardson, what number is she?”

The girl folded her arms as they stopped a couple of steps away from her. “Why?”

“Because she’s skipping on her parole officer and I want to find her,” he scoffed and looked away, “before she ends up scoring again,” Sam added.

The girl looked back to him. “She wouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Sam asked, Eileen was trying to figure out what was going on from one side of the conversation.

“She’d lose her kids,” she said. “She actually gives a shit.” She looked between them.

“You might not believe me but,” Sam glanced to Eileen who leaned against the wall to look at him, “I don’t do this for the reward. I-.” He swallowed and found that he couldn’t bring himself to admit it in front of Eileen and so he said, “I don’t want to send people to jail, I just want them off of junk.”

When she didn’t say anything the pair looked to each other and then made to walk up.

“She’s not in,” the girl blurted out, clearly annoyed at herself.

“Sure,” Eileen said.

“Really,” she said. “I saw her yesterday, she was white and sweating. I begged her to go to the centre with me but she just ran away. She did rugby before the heroin, she’s hard to catch, man.” She shrugged. “She’s working in twenty minutes, maybe she’s there.”

Sam sighed and turned around, gesturing for Eileen to follow him outside.

“You believe her?” Eileen asked as they stopped on the sidewalk.

He exhaled. “I don’t know,” he turned to look up at the building, “she seemed-.” He blinked fast in mild surprise when Eileen waved her hand in his face.

“I can’t see your lips,” she said with a smile.

Sam closed his eyes. “Sorry,” he said and looked to her. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “What did you say?”

“I don’t know if I believe her. She seemed genuinely worried but she could just be covering for her.”

“Do you think we should have tried the apartment?” Eileen asked. “You said her car was still here.”

Sam inhaled and looked around, he checked his watch and then looked back to the apartment building. “Something isn’t right,” he said.

“What?” Eileen asked.

“She had a relapse about a month after going clean but she’s been clean since. She was getting her kids back, she was even looking into going back to school.” Sam closed his eyes briefly.

Eileen watched him. “Do you know someone who-?” When he looked at her she realised this was probably an inappropriate question and stopped. “Could she be staying at her mom’s?”

Sam shook his head. “She hates her, she’s been fighting her daughter every step of the way. She said in court it would be easier if her daughter was found dead.”

Eileen exhaled, her brow dipped. “That’s horrible.”

“That’s what can happen,” Sam said. “You family might not stick around.” He thought about Dean answering his SOS calls and refusing to hang up until he was standing in front of him after running, driving and flying to him. “You’re very lucky if your family understand and support you.” He looked over to car again and Eileen sensed there definitely was a hidden reason Sam did this job. “I’m gonna make sure that’s her car,” he said while looking at her, “the _Ford Taurus_ ,” before heading back to his own car.

Eileen nodded and decided to go over to it, all the while thinking about the two brothers she’d heard about even working in three different states; the Winchesters were famous in the hunter communities all across America and everyone knew what happened to their parents but she couldn’t recall drugs having anything to do with it.

Sam opened the car door and leaned across to the passenger seat to grab the file and then leaned out again. He put it on the roof of the car and opened it, looking for the note of the car manufacturer.

Eileen sauntered in the direction that Sam had alluded to before, checking the logos as she walked down the line of parked cars. She found that there was also a dumpster sitting askew in a parking space.

Unbeknownst to her, two weeks previously there had been a police car chase and the suspect, high on meth amphetamine, had taken a sharp left turn down the alley at the side of the apartment building. It was so sharp a turn that he zig-zagged down the alleyway in a series of attempts to correct himself. As he did so, the back of his car smacked the bin and carried on with police car in tow; it was enough to dent the dumpster just slightly and cause it to bounce off of the wall so that it wheeled into the middle of the alley. It sat there undisturbed for a few nights where stray dogs and cats of the area cautiously inspected this new phenomenon quite a few times until a bare-knuckle brawl in the alley resulted in one woman slamming a man into one side of it while a male omega looked on nervously, hoping his partner could fend of the challenger. The dumpster rolled further towards the road, helped on by some kids of the neighbourhood who decided to give it a couple of unsuccessful shoves and then moved on, mocking each other. And then a few nights later, when the trash man came along to empty it there was a car parked in the alley so he left it off-centre in an empty parking space and that night when Amelia came back from work she parked next to it.

As Eileen approached the only car in the line that fitted Sam’s description she noticed the car was parked facing away from her and there was a shadow across the window. Sam was still looking for the car manufacturer in the file, he stabbed his finger onto the page when he found it and then looked to the registration number; he nodded, knowing that he’d spotted it correctly but he’d wanted to check. Eileen scratched her ear as she rounded the car and froze. Sam closed the file and moved his hand to open the car door.

“Sam!” she yelled and Sam’s head spun around, instinctively knowing from her tone that something was wrong. She looked to him and her face was tense at the brow, she gestured her hand and he took off running after her, as he arrived next to her she looked back to driver’s seat.

He stood on her left and looked at the woman in the driver’s seat of the car. His brain idly noticed her registration plate and confirmed this was indeed Amelia's car, despite looking right at her unconscious body. She was slumped towards the middle of the car with her left arm limp down at her side with her sleeve rolled up. Her eyes were closed but there was no doubt in Sam’s mind that she was not sleeping.

Eileen lunged forward and tugged at the car door handle, it swung open and Sam rounded her, looking down when he heard something clatter to the road to see an empty syringe at his feet. To avoid this he kneeled down on the metal rim of the car floor, it was hard and cold through his jeans, his brain told him she had been there a while.

Nevertheless he took her face in his hands and turned it towards him. “Amelia,” he said and noticed her head lulled in his grip, her skin was white and her lips were blue, making the inside of her mouth look a deeper red than usual. He slapped her face. “Amelia, come on.”

Eileen looked at the line of dried blood down her arm and rushed to take out her cell phone. She hadn’t lived in the area long enough to familiarise herself with the availability of text-to-911 service and so she called it and put it on speaker. She nudged it against Sam’s arm and he looked, it wasn’t for him to take from her but he did anyway.

“Go to my car,” he said, looking at her, “it’s open.” She looked down as he rushed to hand her his car keys without thinking properly. She looked up quickly when he nudged her shoulder desperately. “In the trunk there’s two bags, a blue and a red one, bring both.”

She nodded, waited for more but he turned away from her and she took off.

_“911, what’s your emergency?”_

Sam felt for a pulse in her neck as he started by giving Amelia’s address, he then shook his head, put the phone down on the ground and began maneuvering her onto the deserted sidewalk as he spoke, his knee burned with the movement, “I have a woman without a pulse, likely heroin overdose,” he put his hand to her chest and waited to see if it would rise under his palm, “she’s not breathing.”

Sam moved her more onto the sidewalk so that he could kneel next to her however, as he leaned over her to begin CPR, his buttocks still knocked against the frame of the door.

 _“We’re getting someone to your location,”_ the emergency responder informed him.

Sam nodded to himself, placed the heel of his right hand in the middle of her chest, aligned with her nipples, then placed his left heel on top of that and began pumping hard and fast, counting to four in his head. There were many ways they’d been taught how to remember the pace needed – songs, mostly – but right then he found that he didn’t need it.

 _“I’m going to talk you through CPR,”_ the responder said.

“I’m already doing it,” Sam said, breathlessly as he put his entire weight into it. “I’m trained,” he clarified. After thirty compressions he moved to administer two rescue breaths.

He was halfway through the next set when Eileen dropped to his side with two big bags.

“Can you do CPR?” he asked, looking at her as he pumped the chest, letting it rise in between.

“Yeah,” she said and Sam gestured for her to take over, which she did from the other side.

Sam grabbed the red bag and opened it, pulling out a portable defibrillator. He set about inputting the various information needed and flicked a switch. It made a high-pitched whine as it charged up. In the distance Sam heard sirens as he watched Eileen perform CPR and then checked for a pulse, Eileen looked to him as he shook his head in frustration.

Sam’s machine let him know that it was ready and he breathed, “Clear,” knowing that Eileen was watching his lips and she moved.

Sam didn’t hear the confused emergency responder ask if the EMTs were at the scene: they weren’t used to members of the public coming prepared.

He pressed two paddles to her chest and squeezed, Amelia’s body jerked upwards with the shock. Eileen checked her pulse while it charged again. She shook her head as the sirens grew closer and continued CPR while they waited, moving to try rescue breaths.

“Clear,” Sam muttered again and then nudged her when he realised she couldn’t see him. She watched him shock her again and not stopping before he did it again.

 _“Are the EMTs with you?”_ Eileen’s phone blared again.

“No!” Sam exclaimed as he waited for the machine to charge and Eileen resumed CPR. “They’re-, they’re close.” He hit his hands on the machine. “Clear!” he screamed and Eileen moved to let him in.

 _“Is the patient breathing?”_ the voice on the phone tried but Sam ignored her.

Sam shocked her again, watching her body convulse but then remain unresponsive. "Come on!” he yelled through gritted teeth and Eileen reached to start CPR again but then withdrew quickly when he shocked Amelia again. She looked at his face as the paramedics pulled into the street so she stood up to gesture for them and she missed Sam scream, “Amelia!”

Eileen looked back to him to see tears fall from his face onto her shirt as he violently urged the machine to charge quicker. She staggered backwards as one of the paramedics took her place.

“What’s her name?” he asked Sam and then looked up to Eileen whose face was trained on Sam’s and so seemingly ignored him. He looked back to Sam, slightly exasperated. “What’s her name!”

Eileen ran to Sam’s right side and put her arms around him. “Sam,” she said but he spoke over her, looking down at Amelia’s purple-white face, and knew, deep down, that it was too late.

“Sir,” the paramedic said, sternly.

Eileen pushed his arms and he fell back against the open car door, Eileen catching it with her left hand as it began to swing closed while Sam panted looking down at her. The paddles fell to the road at either side of him and he lifted his right hand to wipe the hair from his face. Eileen’s phone slid under the car at Sam’s right side, the emergency responder still on the other end waiting for confirmation of the paramedics on scene before she could hang up.

The paramedic began doing his checks while his partner ran to the ambulance to grab adrenaline and naloxone, which was an opioid antagonist. He knew it would be too late but he was going to grab it anyway, in case they got her breathing again.

“What is her name?” the remaining paramedic asked again. When he didn’t receive an answer he looked up to see Sam completely beside himself and so he leaned forward to click his fingers in Eileen’s face. “What’s her name!” he shouted as her head shot back in surprise and she looked at him.

“She’s deaf!” Sam screamed at him as he sat forward a little, it was so loud that Eileen felt the air vibrations along with his movement and she looked at him and then at the paramedic’s shocked face. “Her name’s Amelia!” he shouted and then seemed to calm slightly. “It was Amelia,” he said.

He sat there and watched them check her vitals and determine that they were too late. When they confirmed her time of death Sam closed his eyes and turned to his left, pulling himself to his feet and leaning his back against the side of the back seat of the car.

“How did you guys know-?” the second paramedic asked Eileen.

“She-, we’re bounty hunters,” she said softly. “We were here to arrest her.” She stood and looked down at Amelia Richardson, the vet turned junkie. She then walked to Sam and put her hand on his shoulder as the first paramedic was telling the other that the defibrillator wasn’t theirs. “You did all that you could have.” He sniffed, he’d evidently began crying again. “It sounds cliché as all hell but it’s true.” He turned and leaned his hands on the car with a disbelieving nod.

They watched the pair perform an EKG strip on the patient to make sure there was definitely no signs of life and then one ran back to the ambulance to radio in the DOA and the other cautiously approached the pair.

“We’ll probably take her to the hospital but it’s merely formality,” he said and Sam nodded as Eileen watched his lips. “I’m afraid she’s been dead for a few hours, there was nothing you could have done.” Sam nodded again and sniffed, wiping his face on his sleeve. The action struck the paramedic as slightly regressive. He looked to Eileen and inhaled nervously. “I wanted to apologise for earlier.”

“So apologise,” Sam said however Eileen didn’t notice, only realising something had been said when the man stopped, looking at Sam. The hesitation and obvious tension meant Eileen also looked to Sam who glared at the man with red and wet eyes, his hair disarranged. “Apologise to her,” Sam said, gesturing to Eileen, for her benefit.

Eileen looked back to the paramedic. “It’s okay,” she said, with a shake of her head and looked to Sam again when he touched her shoulder.

“It’s not,” he said and then to the man. “It’s not okay.”

“I just assumed-,” the man began.

“What!” Sam shouted. “You assumed what! That we’re junkies, just low life drug-addicts that don’t need respect?” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Huh?”

“Sir-.”

“Sam-.”

“No,” Sam said, shaking his head. “You save lives, and that’s amazing. And I’m sure it’s not all rainbows and sunshine but people deserve respect, whether it’s a patient or the people on the side-lines. Every _junkie_ has a story, w-.” Sam pointed to himself without thinking and then changed what he was going to say, Eileen looked down to the movement and then up again, her eyes slightly narrowed. “ _They_ have feelings. Not everyone,” he gestured to Eileen, “is as rude as you or as you think they are.”

Sam leaned down to shove the defibrillator back into the bag without closing it and then lifted both bags onto his shoulders before he paused and looked at the man.

“That woman had children, would you have spoken to them like that?” he said.

“Sam-,” Eileen began and the man looked to the floor.

Sam just shook his head and walked away towards his car.

Eileen caught up to him. “Sam, you didn’t have to do that.”

Sam stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “He shouldn’t have been rude to you. No one ever should, but-.” He pursed his lips. “I really don’t mean for this to sound as bad as it does.” He put his hand out briefly. “But this wasn’t completely about you. That was me being sick of the way people-, people who are supposed to help the public, lump drug addicts into one group that isn’t worth help or compassion or-.” He inhaled hard and Eileen took his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said, his face suddenly flushing and his throat constricting.

He shook his head and pushed passed her to his car. She followed him as he stopped at his trunk, opened it and put the bags in the boot, pausing to fix the defibrillator.

She stood beside him. “What’s in the blue one?” she asked and looked up at him as the unmistakable rattle of a stretcher being wheeled along the road surface could be heard.

He stopped and swallowed before sniffing, reading himself to answer. “Everything I might need to bring someone back from the brink of death.” He unzipped the bag and inside Eileen was amazed to see a highly organised system of drug vials, various dressings, gloves and other implements. “Naxolone,” Sam said, pointing to one drug vial and dragging his finger along to two others, all of which had red dots on the top, “which is an opioid antagonist. It blocks the addictive part of the drug, like heroin, and can bring someone out of an overdose.” He pointed to packs of full syringes, sealed inside bags, taking a chance to sniff before he continued. “Adrenaline, insulin.” He pointed to sealed pens. “EpiPens.” He shrugged. “Everything.”

She smiled. “You’re like a walking ambulance.”

Sam smiled at the right side of his mouth but it didn’t carry into the rest of his face. “I deal with a lot of desperate people.” He zipped the bag back up. And she looked to his face. “Did you get your cell phone?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Do you want to go for a coffee?”

He turned his head to look at her and said the words he knew he shouldn’t, “I’d rather have something stronger.”

She nodded. ”Okay.”

>><< 

Dean was drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel of his car along to Whitesnake’s ‘Still of the Night’ which was only playing in his head, on repeat from when it had been on the radio earlier that day. The rain was falling steadily on the car but his engine was dead and so were his screen wipers.

He sang under his breath while he waited in his cold car, “In the shadow of night, I see the full moon rise, telling me what’s in store…” He smiled when his thoughts returned – as they had done since he’d left the base – to Cas and the previous night.

Claire left the homeless shelter and looked to her left before she began to cross the road towards the car, watching him smile to himself. She wasn’t bothered about the rain on her hair or legs, which were only covered by tights. However, she did put a photo she had in her hand in her shorts pocket to keep it dry. She walked behind the car and stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Too alpha for us,” Dean muttered to himself and laughed once.

He startled when he sensed Claire reaching for the handle and, in the panic, he took up singing again, louder and obviously aimed at her as she sat down beside him, “My heart start aching, my body start shaking, and I can’t…” She stared at him. “No, I can’t take no more, no, no, no!”

“Stop,” she said and put her hand out before reaching behind her to pull her seatbelt across.

“Any luck?” he asked, turning the engine over. Music started up, quiet and almost unheard. He turned his wipers on and settled in his seat.

She sigh despondently as she shook her head slowly. “No one matching Ethan’s description,” she said.

Dean looked forward, thinking. “There’s a crisis centre over on third,” he said and looked to her. “Would he go there?”

She shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

Dean nodded and indicated to pull the car out. “So how do you know Ethan?” Dean asked.

“He was one of the care kids that I helped get into housing after aging out but he struggled for rent, social wouldn’t help him. He’s alpha, so they figured he would be fine” Dean sighed. “So he turned to prostitution.”

Dean looked to her. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Why?”

Dean shrugged. “I just assumed it’d be women and omegas.”

Claire exhaled a bitter laugh. “Right,” she said. “You know, that’s kinda presentist?”

“Well, excuse me but I haven’t had the best experiences with alphas.”

“That doesn’t mean you can assume everyone is the same,” she said.

“Yeah, well, tell Aaron that,” Dean spat back.

There was a silence as they stopped at a stop light.

“That’s not fair,” Claire said, softly.

Dean glanced to her and then looked ahead. “Yeah, I know it’s not,” he admitted, surprising Claire so much that her eyes darted to him. “It’s a habit, one I’m trying to unlearn.” He wiped his face. “I know not all alphas are the same.” He paused and looked along the road. “Neither are all omegas.”

“Never said they were,” Claire said.

“No, _I_ did,” Dean said and looked to her. “But that’s part of what I’m trying to change.”

Her brow dipped a little as she looked at him while he turned the car. “Alphas can be raped,” she said.

Dean nodded. “I know,” he said. “Why would the social assume he was sorted because he was alpha?” He looked to her to see her shrug.

“Because they’re run by people like you,” she said and he looked to her, initially offended, when she shrugged again he understood what she meant.

“What help did he get after he was attacked?”

“Dean, he was a male alpha prostitute in a world where people don’t think alphas need help to make rent?” She paused.

Dean nodded and turned away. “So no one cared?”

“It was sex,” she said. “They think he should have enjoyed it.”

Dean shook his head, feeling the irritation in his jaw. “Fucking hell.” He wiped his hand in the air. “No one should just enjoy it, it’s not sex at all.”

“I know,” she said. “Why do you think we’re here, searching for him when no one’s seen him for five weeks, Dean?”

“Sorry,” Dean said. “It just makes me mad that people think like that.”

“You aren’t much better,” Claire said.

“Hey, I’m trying!” Dean defended. “And I have never thought alphas should just accept that. Anyone.”

She hesitated. “Sorry,” she said.

“Shouting at me,” Dean said.

“Sorry!” she exclaimed.

“Making my heart start aching,” she looked confused but then her face lifted to a reluctant smile when Dean sang the next line, “my body start ashaking! I can’t take no more, no, no, no!”

“Will you stop!” Claire said, laughing and Dean looked to her, smiling. “What is going on with you? You’re too cheerful, it’s gross.”

Dean laughed. “That’s because you’re miserable.”

“I am not,” she said.

“Yeah, you are. You’re like Princess Peach ran away, joined a grunge band and started doing coke.” He chuckled.

Her brow dipped in amusement. “Do you even know what grunge is?”

Dean shrugged. “Don’t have to.” He turned to look at her as they slowed at another stop light. “I can see it in your eyes…” he sang, widened his eyes and leaned towards her, making her laugh.

“The light!” she said while laughing and pointing to where the light they were sat at was suddenly green.

“Oh!” Dean said and hurried to pull away.

“Seriously, what’s going on with you?”

“I just had a good night,” Dean said with a smile.

“Did you get laid?” she asked as they turned into a parking space near the crisis centre.

Dean turned the engine off and looked at her before saying, completely truthfully, “No.”

She chuckled and nodded as she got out the car.

Dean followed her lead and exited the car too. “What’s funny?”

“Forgot who I was talking to,” she said and closed her car door.

Dean leaned on his car roof. “What does that mean?”

“Dean Winchester, the poster boy for abstinence,” Claire said and Dean stepped back to close his car door.

“Hey, I made abstinence cool,” Dean said as he rounded the car towards the front to meet her.

She shook her head. “You really didn’t,” she replied.

“I’ll remember that the next time you need someone at five in the morning,” Dean replied, gesturing to the crisis centre along the road.

“We didn’t get out of the base until six,” she complained.

“Maybe I wanted to stay in bed,” Dean hit back as they got to the doors and she turned to him as she pulled the door open, he put his right hand out to it and looked at her.

“Why?” Claire asked. “You hate sleep?”

“I was tired,” Dean said, Claire just stared at him so he lowered his voice. “I go into heat now,” her face fell a little, “it’s exhausting.”

She nodded. “I didn’t think,” she said.

Dean gestured inside with his eyes closed. “Alright, shut up, get in.”

She smiled and went inside, he swallowed and then followed her. He walked to the desk where the receptionist recognised him. His connections in terms of the sexual assault resources in nearly every state was the exact reason Claire wanted his help. And now he felt guilty for making her feel guilt for getting him out so early but he couldn’t exactly tell her the real reason he’d suddenly developed a relationship with his bed.

>><< 

It was well after eight when Sam stumbled heavily on the sidewalk and struggled to get out of a taxi. He turned to close the door and then hesitated before he turned back around and headed into the familiar apartment block. He hesitated again at the door, wondering if he should just walk away, go to that street alleyway that he really wanted to find himself in.

Demon’s blood was calling him and it was all he could do to ignore it. He tried as he took his keys out; he still had his keys for the apartment and he had no idea why. The front door had been fire damaged and had to be replaced so that key was more a sentimental keychain at this point however the key for the apartment building door still worked.

He switched his thought trail to when he used to live here with Jessica as he forced himself to step inside. She had painted the apartment smurf-blue but then she had decided that it made the place feel too cold, which was made worse with the open-plan main room, high ceilings and large windows. She was worried that an obviously warm colour would be the extreme opposite direction and so had settled on a medium purple.

He remembered that she’d liked it better than the blue but was still worried that no one else would. Mostly she was worried that _he_ didn’t like it. He loved it. But he had been biased, because he loved the look of pride on her face when she was finished.

He struggled up each flight, wondering if it was always up so many stairs, thinking about each of her different kinds of smiles and laughs, the ways she’d show him she cared about him like baking him cookies and leaving him notes. He thought about what she would think if she knew what he was craving as he ascended the stairs and it spurred him on.

He stopped outside his old apartment door and hoped with everything he had that his brother was home. He tried not to speculate what he would do if he wasn’t. He exhaled and knocked the door hard and loud, not leaving it up to chance.

Nothing stirred.

He balled his fist and used it to try again.

When there was still nothing he felt the panic flutter in his chest.

“Dean!” he yelled through the door, conscious of disturbing the neighbours but too in need of his brother to care.

He heard the chain being pulled and the panic he felt suddenly dropped through him while the lock was being disengaged. Dean pulled the door inward and looked at his brother. Sam was greeted with Dean in just his briefs, sweat on his chest and legs, his hair a mess and the apartment in darkness except for the light coming in the window.

The windows that Jess always loved to hear the rain patter on.

“Sam?” Dean croaked and stood back on unsteady feet as Sam took careful steps passed him. “What’s wrong?” Dean closed the door behind them and turned the light on and then, regretting it, turned it off again, deciding they’d rely on the evening light coming in the large windows.

“It’s barely eight, why were you asleep?” He stumbled and caught himself on the couch as Dean watched him.

“Have you been drinking?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Dad,” Sam said and Dean rolled his eyes. “I am a grown man,” he added. “I didn’t pay some drunk to go in to the store, I happen to have my own ID.”

“Did you drive here?” Dean asked, taking steps behind him as Sam rounded the couch, still holding the edge.

“I said I was a grown man, not an idiot,” he shot back and let himself fall into the seat, furthest to the right of the couch. “Stupid.”

Dean rounded him and looked down, feeling panic rise in his throat as he realised what was happening. “Sam… Why are you hammered?”

“I’m not,” Sam said. “I _was_ -!”

Dean groaned in frustration. “Fine! Why _were_ you hammered?”

“Why are you shouting?” Sam asked. “You always shout.”

“You know exactly why,” Dean said and Sam looked up at him. “Why did you get hammered, Sam?”

Sam’s eyes darted around in front of him, his nostrils widened as he inhaled, long but not particularly hard, while his brows dipped. His lips twitched a few times while he tried to find the courage to do what he came here to do – confide in his brother. “I found my bail dead,” he said in a low voice, as if he didn’t want the words to come out at all.

Dean inhaled as he sat on the coffee table, feeling the tissue box flatten under his weight, he lifted up slightly and used his right hand to swipe it along the table and lowered again.

“Heroin,” Sam continued, looking down, letting his legs fall apart and slump back on the couch. “Sitting in her car, in broad daylight, and no one saw her. Or cared.” Dean shook his head in dismay and lifted his right hand to his forehead. “You’d think that wouldn’t make me want to score,” Dean’s head shot up, “ever again.”

Dean’s eyes fixed on him as he lowered his hand. “Did you?” Sam hesitated and Dean leaned forward and grabbed his arms to look at him. “Sam, tell me the truth.” When Sam didn’t answer he shook him. “Did you?!”

“No!” Sam shouted at him. “I couldn’t find anyone,” he added.

Dean let his arms go and leaned back. “You went?”

“Yes,” Sam said softly. “I went and couldn’t find him, I couldn’t find anyone. So I came here.”

Dean inhaled and watched his brother look down, obviously avoiding looking up at him.

“Look at me,” Dean said but Sam didn’t so Dean grabbed his face and made him look at him, despite Sam trying to pull away. “No, you look me in the eyes, Sam!” Sam stopped, looking at Dean, with tears in his eyes. Dean was heartbroken, wondering if those tears were shame or fear that his brother hated him. “I love you.”

Sam suddenly started sobbing and Dean looked from one eye to the other.

“Do you know that?” Sam nodded in his hold and Dean’s eyebrows lifted. “Whether you never take drugs again or do it every minute of every day. It would break my heart to see you like that but I am  _always_ here, I will always be here if you want someone to pick you up and-.” Dean swallowed when tears filled his eyes too. “I will do anything I can to make you _you_ again, Sammy.”

Sam nodded and lifted his hand to wipe his left eye and then lowered it before wiping his right. “But I went there.”

“And you didn’t get any drugs,” Dean said.

“Only because-,” Sam argued.

Dean shook his head. “I don’t care,” he said. “He wasn’t there, you didn’t get any and…” He waited for Sam to look at him. “You came here.” Sam looked down and Dean lifted his head a little, making Sam look back to him. “You could have gone anywhere, you could have kept looking or pretended it never happened but you came here and you told me.” He nodded. “You did good, Sammy.”

Sam sobbed again. “Good?” he repeated. “How is that good?”

“Because secrets won’t help you,” Dean said. “You start keeping this a secret like you did before then I can’t help you. I’m not here to punish you, Sam. I’m here _for_ you, whatever that means.”

Sam nodded and Dean let his head fall, allowing him to bow it and cry before put his hands on the arm of the couch and the cushion beside Sam’s left side.

“Why did you get drunk, you know it weakens your defences,” Dean said softly.

Sam nodded and lifted his head, making Dean lift his right hand from the cushion to sit back a little, still leaning his left on the arm. “Eileen suggested a drink and I just-.” He shrugged and looked to Dean, hearing what he’d said about secrets. “Honestly, I took advantage of her not knowing about my history.” Dean nodded. “I suggested more than coffee and she didn’t think anything of it.”

“Who’s Eileen?” Dean asked.

“New hunter,” Sam said and sniffed before wiping his nose with his right hand. “Charlie’s friend.” He looked up at Dean. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.” He shook his head. “No, I _do_ know.”

Dean leaned in to look in his eyes. “Well, I was. Stop focusing on that and focus on the good things. You came.” He slapped Sam on the top of his left arm and Sam nodded. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” Sam said.

“Rookie mistake,” Dean replied and Sam smiled. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll get some pizza, some beers-.” Sam groaned. “You can have water, lightweight.” Sam laughed once. “And we can catch up on _Game of Thrones_ , huh?”

Sam nodded once. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Dean patted his leg. “You order,” he said and stood up, “I’m gonna take a leak.”

As Dean headed around the couch to the bathroom Sam leaned forward to take his cell phone out of his pocket. “Yeah, don’t hold back.” He began dialling. “Maybe brush your teeth.” He sniffed and reached for one of the tissues in the squashed box.

Dean glanced back as he got to the bathroom door and put his hand out, blew into it and then smelled it. His head shot back. “I was asleep, screw you,” he muttered as he went inside.

Dean crossed the threshold and then stepped out again, muttering for Sam to order chicken wings too through a toothpaste-foam filled mouth. Sam hung up as Dean walked the length of the room to go into his bedroom then Sam walked to the doorway and leaned his head towards the opening.

“Are you decent?” he asked. Dean grunted in the affirmative and Sam walked in to see him pulling his jeans together to fasten them. “So why _were_ you sleeping?”

“Strange as it might sound,” Dean said as he picked his shirt from the bed and began putting his arms through it, “I was tired.” He pulled it over his head.

Sam shook his head and sighed. “Okay then, answer me this. Why do you have a landline?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked as he fixed his shirt.

“You’re never here, why pay for it when you can just have your voicemail service on your cell?”

“I don’t pay for utilities,” Dean said and Sam’s brow dipped. “How do you not know that?”

Sam shrugged. “Jess did it all, it was her apartment,” he said and looked down.

Dean walked to him, cupped his head and pulled it down so that their foreheads touched for a second and Sam smiled. “Come on,” Dean said and gestured his head to the doorway before he let Sam go and walked into the living room.

Sam followed him into the room and stopped. “I’ve seen it,” he said.

Dean turned to look at him. “You’ve seen it? This season?” Sam nodded. “But we watch it together?”

“When?” Sam asked. “I never see you.”

“You see me all the time!” Dean defended.

“On a job,” Sam added. “Or in passing in the bunker.” He shrugged. “That’s it. Right now you’re more of a colleague than a brother.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped as he looked up to his brother and wondered when he’d stop coming to his door when he got low. People ran to family for help, not colleagues. And the worst part was that Sam was right.

Dean inhaled and then exhaled. “I’ve seen it too,” he admitted and saw Sam smile sadly with a nod.

“Have we just given up?” Sam asked and hummed in question. “We used to be so close but now you don’t talk to me.” Sam thought about the mystery man who hung his coat on the peg behind Dean but who he couldn’t pick out of a line up. “You don’t tell me anything!” he shouted in frustration.

“Hey!” Dean yelled defensively. “You watched it too! What haven’t I told you?”

Dean’s heart was in his throat as they looked at each other; he was terrified that he’d heard or seen Cas that morning in the bunker or the times Dean had been on the phone to him and Cas had spoken in the background.

Sam stared at his brother and read the fear immediately and felt awful; he was sure his brother had a reason for keeping the man a mystery and he had to be honest that he was putting the blame on the only tangible thing he could find that was widening the gap between them when it had been going on for long before this person came into the fold. Or he hoped so.

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t bring himself to have a go at Dean for one secret.

“Where’d you get the black eye?” he asked instead.

“A bail,” Dean said without a beat. “Anything else?”

The aggression with which Dean replied annoyed Sam into saying it, “Charlie said there’s a new hunter in the bunker. Someone you met in Illinois.”

“So?” Dean asked.

“When did you go to Illinois?”

“I don’t remember,” Dean said, knowing it was lame as he turned and walked to the kitchen, exhaling nervously. “So, I don’t tell you every interaction I have and you’re mad?”

Sam softened and walked towards the kitchen. “No, Dean,” he tilted his head as he stopped on the other side of the kitchen table, “I’m not mad, I’m sad, man. I feel like I’m losing you.”

Dean shook his head as he went to the refrigerator. “That could never happen.”

“I meant-.”

“I know what you meant,” Dean cut in and turned to look at him. “But I told you, not five minutes ago, I’m always gonna be here, for you. Okay, we’ve let things slide and we’re gonna fix that. Right?”

Sam paused before he nodded and then nodded again as he said, “Yeah.”

Dean could tell he didn’t believe it. “We are, Sam. I mean it. We’re gonna start now and we’re not gonna just give up after that, we’re gonna keep it up. So, we’ll eat pizza,” he turned back to the fridge, and reached in to retrieve drinks, “you can drink your water,” he put a bottle on the table for him, “and I’ll drink beer.” He gestured it in his hand. “Lots of beer.” Sam snorted. “We’ll rewatch the episodes together and sort this out, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Sam agreed and picked up the water, hoping it would work.

>><< 

Across town Cas was still in his office when Dean was playing the second episode. The office floor was almost completely covered in boxes piled up in different numbers with just a line to the desk clear for Harry and Becky to walk back and forth. The floor around Castiel’s desk didn’t give him that luxury. There were papers all over his desk from different files and accounts that had new notations and highlights all over them.

The top two buttons of Cas’ shirt were open, his sleeves were rolled up and were now coming undone as he extended his arms, arranging papers. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further as he read the end of a report in front of him. He nodded to himself and picked up a piece of paper on the desk under what he was reading and then reached into his open drawer with the idea of grabbing his stapler but when his fingers danced over the bundle that was his discarded tie, white stress ball and assortment of biro and parker pens he had to look down. He used his fingers to swipe the tie to the right side and then the left before he leaned down to look. He closed the drawer and opened the one under it; it was full of files in suspended folders and he sighed as he shut that drawer too. He looked around on his desk by lifting up papers while trying not to change their positions.

Harry walked into the room, his own dress in similar disarray but his hair in tact. He was carrying a folder under his arm and a report in his left hand while he stapled it together with his right. He held it out for Cas who looked up.

“Perfect,” Cas said and put his hand out, passed the report, to the stapler which Harry hesitantly handed him. Cas stapled his report and dropped it on the desk before holding the stapler out again and then took the offered report. “Thank you.”

Harry nodded, turned and left, taking his folder out from between his side and arm as he exited.

Cas put the report down on the desk and began flipping through the pages fast, clearly knowing exactly what he was looking for. He stopped when he was close and flicked forward five pages then back two, muttering under his breath until he found the right page. He then used the index finger on his left hand to go down the column of figures at the bottom, he then stopped and used the index finger on his right hand to select a figure and then ran both fingers along and down until they met. He tapped that figure twice as he looked to his left at the figures he had noted from another report on a notepad.

“Damn it,” Cas said to himself when they didn’t match. He wrote the discrepancy on his notepad underneath his notes and then moved to write ‘John-1225’ to its left: the reference of the account.

“Problem?” Cas looked up and saw Samandriel standing in the doorway.

“Look around you,” Cas said, somewhat disgruntled that he now had him to deal with and looked back down to the report. “The entire corporation has plenty of problems.”

Samandriel stepped into Cas’ office and began to shut Cas’ office door, making Becky and Harry turn to look from where they were stood beside Becky’s desk. “Can we talk?”

“About what?” Cas asked, noting discrepancies with sighs and not looking up.

“I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Samandriel said.

“Have we?” Cas mused, barely listening.

“You know we have, Castiel,” Samandriel said, his voice flat and still shaky. “I wondered if we could start again. Considering.”

Cas looked up with a sigh. “Considering. Considering what?”

“Well,” Samandriel hesitated, “with everything that’s going on I’ll be here longer than planned.” Castiel exhaled hard and looked to the side. “I thought we could at least _try_ to be friends.”

Cas looked up at him and his eyes narrowed. “Why?”

He hesitated. “Well-.”

Cas felt like he was going to snap; everything was too much, to go from the happiness and anxiety of that morning to the stress and tension of everything after.

Cas looked up at him. “Why do you need to be here? We’ve handed over, we’re just in the final admin stages.”

“I’m project-head, Castiel. Each document needs my signature.” He looked down. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Who said I hate you?”

“Don’t you?” Samandriel asked. “You’re not exactly giving off a friendly vibe-?”

Cas interrupted, “Why do you have this need to be my friend? We've barely spoken, even when we were in the same room together.” Samandriel’s mouth opened but Cas continued. “What would make you think that I wanted you to be my friend?”

Becky and Harry were listening at the door and looked to each other, Harry soundlessly asking if they should go in and Becky widening her eyes in fear.

Cas continued whilst Samandriel looked down at the first alpha to ever scent him, the only alpha he never got to see the heat through with, tear him apart.

“Why are you so obsessed with the idea that I _care_ , that I actually would _care_ … _at all…_ about having _any_ kind of relationship with _you_?” He paused and ignored the redness around Samandriel’s eyes. “I don’t want your friendship, on _any_ level, Samandriel. I don’t even like working with you, or with you in the same building,” Samandriel swallowed and looked down, wishing it would end, “which isn’t helped by this adolescent seeking of my attention.” Cas paused and inhaled. “How much clearer I can make this?”

Becky and Harry looked at each other, their ears still to the door.

Samandriel’s eyes fell and his face burned from the humiliation he felt. He inhaled hard and held it, feeling like that teenager who had been left in the elevator, confused and alone.

Cas waited a few beats and then let his left elbow sit on the desk before he raised his eyebrows. “Can I get on?” He gestured to the door with his left hand.

Samandriel let out a sound that could have been interpreted as a surprised sob wretched from him but Castiel was never good at understanding these things, Becky however put her hand to her chest. He turned and paused before he opened the door, making Becky and Harry straighten up and step back. He looked between them, Becky being unable to look him in the eye it was only Harry that noticed the tears fall down his face as he stormed passed them and he turned to watch Samandriel wipe his eyes as he turned the corner towards the elevator.

“God, when will he go back to Avalon?” Cas muttered to himself.

Becky stepped into the room to see Castiel sigh and look down to the report, using his pen to tap the bundle of paper while he found where he had been before he’d been interrupted. “Sir-.”

“That was harsh,” Harry said as he stepped in behind her and Becky turned to look at him with wide eyes that told him he should probably have shut the hell up. Cas slowly looked up at him with an exhale during which he let his hand fall onto the desk. “He’s a nice guy, he’s just trying to be your friend.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed as he tried to suppress the anger in his gut. “Thank you,” he said with a clenched jaw and Becky stared at him while Harry seemed pleasantly surprised. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry nodded. “Unfortunately, I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to work, and lately I’m here to redo everything that’s come through this office in the last five years, so excuse me if I don’t have time to make _friends_ with people from my past.” He looked down again.

“You already knew him?” Harry asked in shock.

“Yes,” Cas replied without looking up.

Harry looked to Becky, silently asking if she knew this, and her mouth opened before she inhaled, looking between them awkwardly. “Mr Novak used to work at Avalon,” Becky said.

“Were you rivals?” Harry asked.

Cas let his pen drop to the desk and slammed his hands down, making Becky jump. “Samandriel is the heir to Avalon,” Cas said, his tone became monotonous, as if he were reciting something from a pamphlet, “at the time I knew him he’d just started. His father wanted him to earn his place in the company and not be entitled. So, he started in the canteen, worked his way up to the mailroom and then became the front desk secretary. Before I left he had been working for a personal accountant on level two.” He paused, trying not to remember anything about that time. “As an apprentice assistant.” He raised his eyebrows at Harry. “Can you see why that would not be the start of a friendship?”

Harry shuffled on his feet and Becky looked to the side whereas Cas looked back to his work, thinking that was the end of the story.

“So, what happened?” Harry pushed as he looked at Cas who paused while Becky looked back to them. “Something must have happened.”

Cas slowly looked back up. “Why?”

“Because he’s right, you hate him and he’s terrified of you but for some reason really craves your approval.”

Cas looked to Becky who was staring back at him, she was clearly wondering the same but hadn’t wanted to ask.

Cas inhaled and looked to the side before he looked to Harry and exhaled hard and fast. “I am an alpha and Samandriel is an omega, he went into heat while working late and I assume panicked and made for the exit, via the elevator.” He shrugged. “Coincidentally I was leaving via said elevator at the same time.”

“What happened?” Becky asked softly, wondering if she was wrong about her boss.

“I… reacted,” Cas replied.

“You mated?” Harry asked.

Cas shook his head. “No, I just-, I _manhandled_ him.” Becky and Harry shared a look. “I was a young alpha reacting to an omega in heat and I had no idea how to handle it, it took me by surprise. I quickly got a hold of myself and then walked away.”

The pair stared at him.

“That’s it?” Becky asked.

“That’s it,” Cas confirmed.

“Is that why you left Avalon?” Harry asked, somewhat disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Cas said with an exhale. “Can we get back to work, please?”

“Yes, sir,” Becky confirmed.

“I-,” Harry started, lifting his hand slightly.

“It was not a question,” Cas snapped.

Harry let his hand fall. “Yes, sir,” he said instead, with a nod.

Cas knew that he could have kept the story to himself but, just as Meg had told him, he’d been ignoring it for so long that the only way he was going to get passed it was by admitting that it had happened and how it still affected him.

 

Samandriel stood in the restroom, looking in the mirror and remembering how he’d felt all of those years ago.

He’d been at his desk, working late, typing up dictations and memos when the sweat that’d plagued him all of that day seemed to suddenly heighten, flush and cover his entire body. His legs had shook and his diaphragm had quivered while he thought he felt every hair follicle on his head. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t take it and needed out of the building, something in him told him to get out as soon as possible and so he’d grabbed his notes to shove them in his briefcase in no particular order. He’d stumbled towards the elevator and pressed the parking lot level.

What he didn’t know is that Castiel had stopped in on level one to check a fax had gone through and ended up chatting with a colleague down there before heading to the elevator as it stopped on the level above.

He’d watched the elevator doors close and began muttering under his breath, reassuring himself as it descended. When it suddenly stopped the floor under where he’d started he startled and looked around in panic when the elevator dinged and then the doors opened.

“Evening, Samndriel,” the young man had said as he entered the elevator with a sigh, pulling at his tie. “Were you working late?”

He glanced to Samandriel who could bring himself to do nothing but hold his breath. His muscles tensed and the silence in the shaft was only broken by the voice telling them they were going down before the motors began moving and the screeching came from far below them as steel cables turned against the weight of the elevator. There had been a smell in the air that made him tremble inside but he clenched his jaw and willed it away.

It was then that Cas’ back had tensed and Samandriel had heard the rumble, later he’d convince himself it’d shook the entire elevator shaft but it was in his abdomen that he’d felt it – like all omegas in heat do. He saw Cas’ head twitch and then felt his hand on his arm before he slammed into the elevator wall and the other man’s weight was against his back.

He inhaled in surprise, he felt the cold of the mirrored wall through his shirt which seemed damp, probably with his own sweat. When he felt the man push his head to the side and run his nose up his skin he felt sick knowing what was going to happen. When he felt tugging at his pants he wished he’d stayed home or even left at the right time but years down the line he’d erased pushing his hips against him from his memories, as well as the heat in his groin.

And then suddenly it was gone.

The elevator had stopped, the floor had been announced and as soon as the doors opened Castiel was out through them. Samandriel had watched him practically run away, his coat billowing with the speed.

He’d stood there as the doors closed on him, feeling abandoned, worthless and, somehow, rejected without having wanted the attention in the first place.

Over the years he’d replayed the interaction in his head, when alone, when with an alpha and even with a beta or a couple of drunken nights with omegas. Nothing ever felt like that night.

In the present he looked in the restroom mirror and felt that familiar rejection all over again.

 

After another four episodes of _Game of Thrones_ they took a break while Sam went to the bathroom and he exited as Dean was taking the pizza box and beer bottles to the kitchen.

“You alright?” Dean asked, putting the box down on the counter and dumping the bottles in the trash under the sink, they filled it up but he squashed them in anyway, just as Sam remembered doing. He wiped his hands and turned to face Sam .

Sam turned to look at him and walked around the end table to sit down on the couch “Yeah,” he said and sighed.

“You sure?” Dean said and Sam looked over his shoulder at his brother as he slowly walked towards the other side of the couch. “You’ve had a couple of beers.”

Sam let his head lull forward. “I’m not gonna run out and score, that’s why I’m here and not in that alley,” he said.

Dean nodded and stopped, looking down at his kid brother. “You wanna talk about it?”

Sam closed his eyes and sighed so Dean sat down on Sam’s right and waited.

“She was trying to get her life back together; she had a job, a flat, she was taking drug tests.”

“What for?”

“Her mom had custody of her kids and a judge had said she had to stay clean, employed and housed for twelve months. That meant her boss did weekly evaluations, her case worker administered random drug tests. If she even got pulled by cops it was over. That was for twelve months before her mom would even consider letting her see her kids.” He shook his head. “She had all the motivation in the world to stay away from drugs.” He looked to Dean. “So why didn't she?” He looked forward again. “I mean, not only did she take them, she had to buy them first.”

“It’s addiction, Sam. You know it’s not logical,” Dean offered.

“I know!” Sam yelled. “That’s what _really_ …” He shook his head and when he spoke again his voice was tight, “terrifies me, Dean. She had to go and get the drugs, meaning she had to find them. You don’t know how quickly these things change, Dean.”

“I do,” Dean said and Sam looked at him. “I’m a bounty hunter, genius. And my brother, get this, is an ex-junkie.” Sam laughed once. “Ex being the important part.”

Sam nodded. “But Dean, I’ve been out just three years and even I couldn’t find a fix.” Dean nodded. “She had to go and get the drugs and then-, I can’t tell if she couldn’t wait until she got out of the car or if she thought it would be somewhere no one could see her but-.” He swallowed on his dry throat. “She knew what she was giving up the minute she put the needle in her arm. She’d lost her kids, her job, her apartment-. It was part of a rehab deal, one positive drugs test and she was gone. She _sought_ that out.” He let his head lower into his hands.

“Why does that scare you?” Dean asked quietly.

Sam hesitated and Dean wanted to scream the question at him, he wanted to know what his little brother was afraid of, he wanted to know what he had to do to save him. But he swallowed it and waited, as hard as it was.

Sam lifted his head, letting his hands fall. “Because every day is a fight just trying to find reasons not to go and score.”

“But you find reasons,” Dean said. “That’s the important part.”

“I used to,” Sam said softly and Dean leaned back a little. “Since you and Bobby locked me in that panic room, every day I’ve had at least one reason not to do it. But lately it’s been harder to justify the struggle.”

“What kinda reasons?” Dean asked, wondering what could have meant so much before that now meant so little.

“You, Bobby,” Sam said without a beat. “My job, Jess’ memory-.” His voice broke and Dean looked at him. “Bobby’s memory. Sometimes, when it’s really hard, I go down to the dumb things.” He shrugged. “The vain things. My skin, my teeth, my hair.”

“That’s not dumb,” Dean said.

“No?” Sam asked and looked to him.

“No, you’d be ugly without the hair,” Dean said and Sam laughed. “Protect your money-maker.” Dean smiled softly, watching his little brother laugh despite everything.

“I want it longer,” Sam replied and looked back to Dean.

“Really?” Sam nodded. “You’ll need to put it in a bun for hunts.” Sam smiled, expecting the ribbing. “I’m serious, someone could grab that, take you down. Watch your six, Rapunzel.”

Sam nodded. “I will,” he said and nodded again.

Dean put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and he looked at his older brother. “I’m just gonna say now, in case it wasn’t clear earlier. I am always here for you.”

“Yeah I know,” Sam said and looked away.

“No, listen,” Dean said and squeezed his shoulder to make Sam look at him again. “I mean it, day or night, in the middle of a job or a shower or a nap. It doesn’t matter if I’m sitting on the can. You only have to call me, text me, find me. If you come here and I’m not here, please try not to give up, don’t take that as a sign because it not.”

“It’s not always that easy-.”

“I know, but we’ll fix it-.”

“You can’t always fix it, Dean!” Sam shouted, swiping Dean’s hand away from his shoulder. “Do you ever think that part of the reason we don’t talk is because you don’t let me-?”

“I do,” Dean argued and watched Sam lean back, hands on his face and head tipped back onto the cushion. “I’m sorry,” Dean said. “You’re right and I’m shutting up right now.”

Sam sighed, waiting for him to keep talking, to justify his actions, even just to say Sam’s name until he looked at him, until he listened, until he hurried up.

But there was silence.

Sam slowly lifted his hands an inch from his face and waited.

Still silence.

His eyes moved to Dean’s face and he was looking at Sam, just waiting. Sam lowered his hands and lifted his head to look at Dean who just stared at him. Sam slowly sat forward and waited for Dean to launch into a tirade but he didn’t even move.

“Every day is a struggle,” Sam said and waited for Dean to decide he was done listening. “I… I appreciate what you’ve said but you need to know that you can have every reason in the world not to relapse and it still happens. That’s what terrifies me.”

Dean nodded, pushing his lips together; they both knew he’d usually jump in there but he held firm and Sam kept going while he had the floor.

“Lately I feel my resolve draining but I am trying, Dean. And I get that you’re there for me but I need more than that, I need more than someone I can call in an emergency who will fix everything, I need my brother. I need more than a colleague, yeah, I need you on my six but when we clock out I need my damn brother back.” He shook his head. “I don’t mean the one who cuts me off, takes control and sorts everything. I need…” He sighed and lowered his head but Dean lowered his too, to keep his eye line and Sam looked to him so he raised his eyebrows. “I need to be _heard_ , Dean.” Dean lifted his head and nodded. “This is one situation where I can’t have you coming in and trying to save the day. This is my fight and I’m doing it,” he nodded, “I just need your help and support. When I come to talk to you I just need you to listen and if you say anything it’s just what you said: that you’re here for me.”

He stopped to look at his brother – strangely _not_ running his mouth – and into his eyes. For the first time a long time he felt like his brother truly heard him, instead of brushing his concerns aside and assuring Sam he’d fix it.

“Can you do that for me?” he asked, so softly Dean barely heard it.

Dean took in his brother’s features; he hadn’t noticed but now he saw how strung out he looked, he had colour now but it was in contrast with the ghost that had turned up at his door not hours ago.

“Yes,” Dean said with a nod. “Yes, I can do that, Sammy.” Dean watched Sam look down into his lap and nod to himself. “Can I ask you for something?”

Sam looked back to him. “Yeah,” he said.

“Can you use every ounce of energy you can find, if not to fight but to reach out to someone-? Doesn’t have to be me, just anyone. If you can’t find a reason to stay away from that junk then just find a reason to contact someone – me, Ellen, Ash, Kevin – to talk you out of it.” Sam looked down and Dean put his hand out. “Wait,” he said and Sam hesitated before he looked at him again. “I know it’s not easy but I’m just asking you to try. And if you can’t do that then please… _please_ contact someone-.” He broke off and looked down as his throat tightened. He took a breath and decided to push on. “Someone to come and find you, so that you’re not-,” his eyes reddened, “so, you don’t end up dead, so you’re not alone.”

“I won’t OD, Dean, I know how much I can handle,” Sam said and heard a lot of junkies through the years say the same to him in the ambulance of in the ER.

“Yeah, I know. I know you’re not dumb and this-, unfortunately this ain’t your first rodeo, but you know as well as I do that the stuff out there isn’t pure, it’s cut with crap that kills, Sam. It ain’t the drugs that’s taking lives out there,” Sam shook his head, “it’s the rat poison and whatever else they’re cutting it with.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and croaked, “Yeah.”

“So, can I ask that of you?” Dean prompted, swallowing his emotions back down. Sam nodded a few times. “We got a deal? I’ll shut up and you try and try until you need to call me, or anyone?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Deal.”

>><< 

That night Samandriel pulled out his sofa-bed to sleep on; Becky and Chuck fell asleep together in Becky’s apartment; Zachariah tossed back and forth in his own bed after posting bail, the tag around his ankle felt hot and itchy but he had no choice; Harry and Ed spent all night playing _Halo_ ; Amara slept in her four poster bed with a male omega whose name she did not know and did not care to know; Benny was returning from a cash-in-hand job to his motel room where he collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

Also, Sam slept on Dean’s couch, his legs folded up like when he was a kid; Dean slept in his own bed in the next room; and Cas fell asleep on his couch surrounded by papers.

While Dean slept all the way through his dreams were plagued by nightmares and Cas kept waking up equally covered in sweat, feeling just as terrified, as if they were experiencing the same terrors. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel wakes with the feeling that something bad has happened and Sam could attest to the fact that he's not wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been avoiding editing this for posting. I had to wait until I was emotionally ready and I suggest you do the same when reading it. Please.

Cas woke on his couch the next day feeling like he hadn’t had a moment’s rest. His shirt and pants felt as if they’d been soaked then dried overnight and as he dragged himself to sitting upright he was sure he smelled something horrible. He lifted his arm and moved his head  so that he could smell his underarms but didn’t exactly get much closer before it was confirmed: he smelled as if he’d ran a marathon in his sleep.

He muttered a curse word under his breath while he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled to the doorway. He stopped to put his hand to his forehead, wondering if he was becoming ill as he felt as if all of his energy had drained from him, and not just physically. He shook his head, knowing that there was too much going on at work for him to be ill, and heaved himself up the stairs to the bathroom where he begun to shower. Thoroughly.

Halfway through he found his legs starting to feel weak and buckling underneath him, so much so that he fell down hard on his right knee. He exhaled and suddenly burst into tears; he felt as if he had nothing left in him to give and attributed it to what was going on at work. He ultimately had to admit defeat by calling in sick for the day. He spent most of the morning sleeping in his bed so deeply that one might think he’d suffered an emotion and physical trauma of late.

 

Across town Dean woke up feeling just as exhausted and stumbled in his underwear into the main room, his eyes tightened in protest to the daylight coming in the large window as he paused in his bedroom doorway. He didn’t realise how warm he had been in bed until he’d gotten into the living area, the cool air seemed to seize him and he gasped softly as he ran across the living room, passed the coffee table, between the arm chair and end table into the bathroom. He did all of this with his eyes still closed and his arms wrapped around his bare torso, muttering curses of regret under his breath. Even on his return to his bedroom he refused to open his eyes in case he woke up properly and therefore slipped as he approached his bedroom and hit into his door as he pushed through it.

The collision of Dean’s weight against the wooden door - and subsequent tirade of swearing - as well as the thud of the door closing behind him indicating his displeasure, woke Sam who was bundled in a blanket on the couch, his calves spilling over the arm facing the window. He lifted his head to look to his right, to the source of the noise, and then groaned slightly as he lowered his head again, he was used to Dean giving him a rude awakening but he still could have done without it. Anyone else could have gone back to sleep but while he could fall asleep anywhere at any time when needed – as he’d learned as a child – he had trouble with sleeping immediately after being woken up.

He lay there for a few more minutes trying to convince himself that he wasn’t completely awake yet and then gave up. He stood up, letting the blanket fall to the floor at his feet as he interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms up above his head. He felt his back crack as he pushed his arms up and tried to stretch as far as possible. He exhaled and let his arms fall as he relaxed his body again and headed towards the bathroom.

He was wearing pants that Dean had given him so they were far too short for him but this was also something that Sam was used to, additionally he hadn’t been as warm as Dean and therefore the air wasn’t as cold on his bare shins. However as he stopped in front of the toilet pan to urinate he paused to pull them out from where they’d lodged themselves between his buttocks. He lifted that hand to rub his left eye while using his right hand to free himself from his pants, he sluggishly looked down to what he was doing while he lowered his left hand to help himself.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing and so he leaned down to get a closer look and closed his eyes tight before opening them again.

There was definitely a red substance on the toilet seat; it wasn’t pooled, it was a thin layer with pulls as if it’d been transferred from another surface to the seat. He shook his head, his eyes widening, as he could not deny what he was seeing: blood.

He straightened up and exhaled knowing that it wasn’t his. He knew Dean would be embarrassed – figuring his brother had just started his period without realising it – so he tucked himself back in, went into the kitchen and grabbed cleaning supplies. He cleaned up the mess, returned the supplies and then ran into the bathroom to finally urinate.

He inhaled nervously as he headed towards Dean’s bedroom, knowing that his brother would _not_ thank him for what he was about to say. He didn’t bother to knock and opened the door, standing on the threshold as he poked his head in the doorway.

The room was lazily bright with the morning sun fighting it’s way passed the blind that was pulled down only three quarters of the way, as if he were only trying to hide the night sky. The band of light that had found its way into the room spilled over the unit in front of the window, the carpet on the far side of the bed and as far as Dean’s right wrist.

His brother was lying on his right side, closest to the door, his right arm lying out straight while his left arm hugged a pillow under his head, he turned onto his back as Sam stepped into the room. The duvet had slipped down to his naval as Dean had felt too warm by the time he’d settled back into his bed.

“Dean?” Sam said and walked towards the bed. Dean hummed so he leaned down and roughly shook him with his left hand. “Dean!”

Dean grunted, his face scrunching into displeasure as he woke up. “What, what!” he said and forced his eyes open as he lifted from the bed, leaning on his right hand, to look up at his brother.

“Um… There’s no good way to say this…” Dean’s eyes focused on him and Sam knew he was going through every possible bad scenario in his head – drugs being the first. His eyes darted all over Sam, looking for signs. “No, not that,” Sam said. “You’re-, you’re bleeding.”

“What, where?” Dean said and looked to his old stab wound then his arms before touching his face.

“Did you sit to pee?” Dean paused and looked up at his brother, wondering why he was asking such a stupid question when he was apparently bleeding out. “It was on the toilet seat.”

Dean sighed and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I was dizzy.” He was suddenly aware of a headache that he realised had been there since he woke up so he lifted his left hand and rubbed his face, suddenly feeling embarrassment creep in. “Dammit,” he muttered. “Must be my-.” He pursed his lips together, unable to finish that sentence in front of his brother. “Explains it.”

“Explains what?” Sam asked.

“Just-.” Dean exhaled, thinking about his missing heat. “How I’ve been feeling.”

“Do you want a towel?” Sam asked and Dean looked up at him. “It’ll-.” He gestured to the bed. “It’ll be on the bed.”

“Nah, I’ll shower and change the sheets when I get out,” Dean said and began to pull the sheets aside to get out on Sam’s side.

“I can change ‘em,” Sam said and stepped to the side to let Dean stand but the duvet seemed to stick to him so he leaned forward to lift it for him. As he went to turn away he had to take a double look at the pool of blood Dean was leaving behind. It had spread out in a circle from where Dean had been lying – Sam would later surmise that it hadn’t happened in the time since Dean came back from the bathroom because it wasn’t still spreading and therefore Dean had probably lay down in the same spot he had been all night – as it had been absorbed into the sheets and covered most of the bed.

Dean paused on the edge of the bed to centre himself and think about what he needed to do and how humiliated he was and would be for the rest of his life. He idly wondered if he’d ever be able to look his brother in the eye again or if his headache would kill him before he’d need to.

Sam pulled the cover back slowly to see the extent of the pool of blood and saw it was also on the actual duvet itself – it had been blue and now it seemed to be a deep purple. His eyes moved to Dean’s back which was also covered in blood, even his underwear was covered as were the backs of his arms.

Sam felt something solid and dreadful settle inside his stomach. “Dean,” Sam said and looked to his brother who looked over his shoulder at him and then glanced all the way behind him before looking back to Sam. His head suddenly whipped back to the sheets and then he was scrambling to his feet, quickly feeling very awake.

“Well,” Dean said and swallowed. “That’s a heavy-.” He legs felt disconnected from his body and they wobbled under him.

“I don’t think that’s a period,” Sam replied, looking down Dean’s body; his underpants, legs and hands were also covered in blood. His underpants had been white and now they were almost completely red except for one patch high on his left side and patches around the elastic on the front.

Dean looked down and saw his thighs were stained, his underwear was completely red, his stomach was also covered and he looked at his hands, the back of which were crimson as if they’d been resting in blood for a while.

He looked back up to his brother. “Oh, shit,” he said calmly and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Dean!” Sam yelled as he dropped the duvet and dived to the floor in an attempt to catch him but he had reacted a second too late. Dean would later joke that Sam had a greater distance to cover.

Dean had buckled straight down and then slumped forward so Sam, who came to his knees on the floor next to him, was met with the dried blood on his back again, a reminder of the serious situation, but noticed that it stopped around halfway up.

“Okay,” Sam said, more to himself, as he lifted Dean’s weight against him and used his right hand to lift Dean’s lifeless head to look at him. “Dean?” When he got no answer he let Dean’s head fall against his chest, felt his neck for a pulse and exhaled in relief when he felt it going strong. He lifted Dean’s head again, using his other hand to help hold his weight up so that he could try to feel or see if Dean was breathing. As soon as he felt warmth from his open mouth he tried to pat his face gently to urge him back to consciousness. “Dean, come on, wake up for me.” He waited and kept patting his face. “Come on, don’t make me slap you, jerk.”

Dean stirred, Sam’s eyes widened and he settled on his knees, giving himself more grip as he felt the bed against his back begin to move away from him.

“Dean, wake up,” he repeated and tapped his face more as Dean tried to lift his head.

Dean also attempted to lift his hand to push Sam’s away but couldn’t quite get there so Sam cupped his face and pulled it up to look at him.

“That’s it, come on,” Sam said. “Look at me, Dean.”

Dean tried to open his eyes and felt warmth on the side of his face, he tried to lift his hand to it, wondering what it was. He couldn’t quite manage it and his hand fell again.

“Dean, open your eyes,” Sam’s voice said again.

“M’tryin’,” Dean said and eventually managed to bring his brother into focus. “What happened?” he asked and eventually put his hand on, what he realised was, Sam’s own hand on his face.

“I think you fainted,” Sam said. “It could be shock but it might be blood loss. Come on.” He let Dean’s face go and Dean felt his head become very heavy as it bobbed forward and he had to catch it as Sam lifted him by the underarms, Dean couldn’t quite make his limbs do what he wanted so when he tried to take a step his knee buckled under him and therefore Sam turned him and sat him on the side of the bed he’d started on. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.” He hesitated and then ran from the room.

Dean turned to look at the bed, using his right hand to lift the duvet cover and look while his left gripped the edge of the mattress as if he was about to fall off of the face of the Earth.

Sam lifted his cell phone and dialled _911_ before trapping it between his shoulder and ear as he began pulling his borrowed pants off.

_“911, which service do you require?”_

“Ambulance, please,” Sam said and tossed the pants on the couch, nearly slipping on the blanket in the process of picking up his jeans, flicking them out in front of him before attempting to pull them on.

_“Ambulance service, is the patient conscious?”_

“Yes, he has already fainted and regained consciousness. He’s speaking normally and fully aware.”

_“Okay, what’s the address?”_

Sam recited it as he looked for his shoes.

_“What’s the emergency?”_

“My brother has lost a lot of blood, he’s an omega. It must have been through the night, it’s everywhere, all over his bed and his skin. It’s too much for a period.” He walked back into the bedroom knowing that they will want to know what he looks like and other details while they send help. He dropped his shoes when he saw that Dean was lying on top of the cover with his eyes closed and not moving. “Dean,” he said and ran over. “Dean!” He shook him and leaned over him. “Wake up!”

Dean pushed his hands away. “I’m tired!” he argued groggily.

“I know but you have to stay conscious,” Sam said but Dean tried to ignore him and push him off.

_“Is he in and out of consciousness?”_

Sam took the phone from his shoulder and held it to his ear. “No, but he wants to sleep.” Dean settled again. “Dean, wake up.” He nudged him.

 _“Keep him awake,”_ the woman urged and Sam did all he could without dragging Dean from the bed.

“You don’t want to lie on all of that,” Sam said softly but Dean just grunted.

It was a tense twenty minutes until the paramedics arrived; Sam trying to wake Dean and Dean pushing him off while the emergency responder on the phone urged Sam to keep nudging him awake. Sam was sure that at any minute Dean would yell at him to leave him alone but he never did and Sam wished he would.

Sam ran to the door when it buzzed and he let them in, pulling the door open and running back into the bedroom and shaking Dean.

“Dean, come on they’re here now, wake up.”

_“Are the medics there with you?”_

“They’re coming up the stairs,” Sam said and shook Dean. “Wake up, Dean, for god’s sake!” Sam pleaded and Dean exhaled, wishing his brother would care less about him.

Sam heard noises and ran to the bedroom door as the paramedics appeared at the apartment door: they were both the same height and in dark blue uniforms although the male was slimmer than the female. He had medium length red hair and she had blonde hair up in a bun. There were no indications of their presentations on their uniforms like the police officers that had come to see Dean and Cas about Amara because only two states in America let alphas and omegas be paramedics and Kansas wasn’t one of them.

“The patient?” the male asked even as Sam gestured for him to come toward him.

“They’re here now,” Sam said. “In here.”

 _“Alright, I’ll leave you with them,”_ the 911 responder said.

“Thanks,” Sam muttered and closed his cell phone, shoving it in his pocket as the female followed her colleague while carrying a pack on her back. “He won’t stay awake.”

Dean however was already trying to roll over back to the position he had been sitting in, not because the medics were here but because his dumb little brother had to plead him. Dean's mind was spinning; he felt light headed and nauseous, he felt weak and drained. He felt fucking devastated. But he just wanted to sleep and not be conscious. Every fibre of his being was begging him to just lie down.

“I’m doing it,” Dean grumbled while he pushed the duvet back to sit on the mattress and Sam lifted it behind him to show the paramedics then flicked it to the other side of the bed so it was obvious. “Come on,” Dean said and tried to pull it back over. “It’s just a heavy period, okay? I’m sorry you guys have been dragged-.”

“Dean, stop it,” Sam said softly and Dean exhaled. His little brother knew exactly how to tear his defences apart.

The medics were putting gloves on and the female turned to Sam. “Are you his alpha?” she asked.

“Brother,” Sam said. “Beta,” he added and they nodded to each other; a mutual understanding and appreciation of their perceived place in society.

“Dean, are you waking up for us?” the man asked as Dean’s head lulled forward into his right hand.

He lifted his head and opened his heavy eyes to look at him. “I’m really tired,” he said.

“I know you are,” he replied to Dean with professional sympathy, “but you’ve lost a lot of blood and from what I can see it looks too much to be a period.” He bent his knees so that he was level with Dean but still on his feet. “Are we sure you don’t have a wound somewhere?”

Dean nodded and then swallowed. “My heat didn’t come,” he said quietly.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Did you call us?” the female asked him, trying to keep Sam calm, with a lifted hand and raised eyebrows.

“You’re heat didn’t come?” the man asked again, to make sure he’d heard Dean correctly because he was drowsy. He was implementing Meg’s well-worn technique of repeating information in the hope that it would prompt the patient to elaborate but _this_ patient clearly didn’t relish admitting all of this in front of his brother. He had to put his right hand out to the edge of the bed to steady himself. “Okay, I’m Leo,” he gestured to his colleague, “this is Jackie.” She smiled and Dean returned it, somewhat weakly. “Your brother called us because he’s worried and so am I. These questions might be personal or embarrassing but we have to ask them to be able to get you any help you might need, Dean. Have you lost consciousness, other than feeling tired?”

Dean shook his head.

“He fainted,” Sam said and Dean exhaled hard, clearly irritated, while the pair looked at him. “When he saw the blood he fainted.”

“I didn’t _faint_!” Dean protested, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s alright, Dean,” Jackie said, “you’re allowed to faint, it was bound to be a shock.”

“I need to ask you,” Leo said and softened his voice. “Is there a chance you could be pregnant, Dean?”

Dean glanced to Sam, the shame palpable, and then back to his hands before, a beat later, he closed his eyes as he nodded.

“Alright,” Leo said and Sam saw he and Jackie exchange a look. “We’re gonna take you to the hospital just to check you over and see what’s going on, Dean.”

“Can I just have a wash?” Dean asked, gesturing to the doorway. “I feel disgusting.”

“We’re a bit worried,” Jackie said and they looked at her. “So, we’ll get you in some clothes, get you to the hospital and you can have a wash there, once they’ve done what they need to do to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Can you hold on for me?” Leo asked. “We want you to get medical attention ASAP. Your brother’s worried,” he said and Dean looked to him, “we all are. Hmm?”

Dean looked to Sam's dipped brow and damn puppy dog eyes. He looked to the side and then down at his hands before he nodded. “Okay.”

“Good man,” Leo said. “Maybe bro,” he looked to Sam, “could you help us out here? We don’t want Dean walking around to grab some stuff to put on.”

“Absolutely,” Sam said and went to Dean’s drawers and opened them.

“Pants,” Dean said and Sam threw him jeans. “Shirt.”

“Yep,” Sam repeated and threw one to the bed.

“Maybe a change to take with you,” Jackie muttered to him while Leo tried to talk Dean into letting him help him dress.

“Right,” Sam said and when into his wardrobe to find a bag and Dean looked over his shoulder while Sam stuffed jeans and a couple of shirts in, as well as underwear and a jacket.

“Dean,” Leo said and Dean looked to him. “Let me know when you feel you can stand.”

He looked down and saw that the man had put Dean’s feet in the pants he’d positioned on the floor so that he could stand and pull them up. He nodded and Leo helped him stand."

“Maybe toothbrush,” he heard Jackie say and Sam ran from the room.

“Sam,” Dean said and Sam turned and ran back, looking at Dean with wide eyes.. “Don’t panic,” he said and Sam nodded, taking a breath. “It’ll be fine.” He nodded again and disappeared.

“He’s just worried, that’s what big brothers are for,” Jackie said.

Dean smiled. “I’m his big brother,” he said. “He’s not used to me needing help.”

Leo leaned down while Dean put his hands on his shoulders and began to pull the jeans up and Jackie stepped towards him, lowering her voice as she asked, “Is there anyone else you want us to call, like your alpha?”

Dean thought about Cas and the way they'd laughed in the bunker, the way Cas had been too scared to tell Dean about his circumcision, and even the way they had argued on Dean's balcony. He glanced down and shook his head as Sam came back in with Dean’s toiletry bag, apartment and car keys. “Do you want me to drive behind you?”

Dean nodded as he buttoned his jeans up. “Scratch my car and you can get a bed next to me,” he said and smiled when Sam laughed. “Put your shoes on, Sammy.”

Sam nodded and dipped to pick them up before he left the room to sit on the couch. It was only once he was gone that Dean swayed and Leo put his arm out to catch him.

“It’s okay,” Leo said. “He can’t see, just take a second.”

Dean nodded, trying to force the tears forming in his eyes down while he still could. It was dawning on him what this all meant but Sam’s pleading voice still echoed in his head and he couldn’t fall apart in front of him.

“D’you think you can get down the stairs?” Jackie asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he said and his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and repeated it, surer than before, just as Sam reappeared.

Sam carried the bag down the stairs with Jackie at his side and Dean in front with Leo who had to keep reminding him to take it slowly. Sam had locked the apartment behind them but gave no thought to Dean’s cell phone which was on the coffee table.

As they got outside Sam said he’d see Dean up there and Dean put his arm on Sam’s, making him stop. “Drive carefully, I’m not going anywhere,” Dean said and Sam nodded before watching Dean get into the ambulance. Jackie nodded reassuringly before closing the doors.

Sam got in the car and watched the ambulance pull away then put its lights and sirens on before disappearing into the distance. He drove in the direction of the hospital, observing the speed limit and letting everyone pass him, all the while thinking about the way that Dean had nodded when asked if he could be pregnant. It was as if he were already defeated and rather than face it he’d just wanted to go to sleep on top of his own blood.

He couldn’t remember when his brother hadn’t faced anything head on, he couldn’t think of a single time when Dean hadn’t wanted to. He’d told Sam that you just dealt with it, because the alternative was to let it consume you or to lay down in a ball and die.

He thought about Dean lying on his bed, in a ball, and had to wipe a tear from his face, sniffing and telling himself to just get on with it, because if his brother couldn’t put up a fight then he’d have to do it for him.

>><< 

Cas had been wobbly since he’d woken up and it scared him; he hadn’t realised how much what he’d been dealing with at work had affected him. It was the only reason he could think of that he’d be so drained.

He’d felt too sick to eat and tried to do some work but he'd become emotional and – as silly as it felt – tearful so he’d ended up watching TV for most of the day. He’d picked up his cell phone and thought about Dean. He had a persistent longing to contact him, even see him, and he had no idea why or where it had come from. All he could assume was that he was subconsciously seeking out emotional support due to his current situation. And yet, he couldn’t place the heavy and empty grief inside him; just what could he be grieving for?

In the end he fell asleep on his couch and his cell phone fell from his hand to the floor.

 

Dean was in a daze, his ears were making every sound that came to him fuzzy and then clear again and had been, on and off, since he’d been helped into the hallway. He was now sitting in the emergency department, in a wheelchair with a blanket tucked around his abdomen and legs while, under his pants, he would swear he could _feel_ his skin crawling with blood – some wet and some dried.

Both paramedics stood beside him, one holding his check-in-papers while a gun-shot-wound patient was being treated in a cubicle beside the nurses station with two police officers stood leaning on the desk surface in front of Dean, ready to question the victim. They were talking, unrushed, as if this was a common event for them.

Dean idly watched the bustle through the unintentional gap in the curtains made by nurses and doctors running back and forward, all wearing gloves but only a couple covered in blood.

Dean thought about Sam and his shoulder injury as he looked at the police officers standing around unfazed; Dean noticed there was a bee symbol on the man’s number badge and knew what it meant – he was a beta enforcer.

He focused on the symbol as the man, who had his hands tucked in the sides of his bulletproof vest, turned a little towards his colleague every time he spoke to him. He wondered if they would have had to sign off on Sam’s wound and realised his brother had never mentioned ever talking to the cops. But he knew what that bee really reminded him of.

Suddenly everything stopped.

A nurse who had removed her gloves and presumably binned them pushed the curtain back for the various doctors and other nurses to leave the cubicle, which they did unhurried and dejected. She caught the officers’ eyes and shook her head.

Dean looked down into his lap wishing he could wash the blood off of his skin.

Disinfectant seemed to be the main smell but that was momentarily interrupted while all around him there were noises that never seemed to stop: sirens arriving, doors swinging open bringing the crisp smell of outside inside, people talking, machines beeping, phone’s ringing, beds and medical trays being wheeled back and forth, a child crying somewhere, someone else laughing, nurses’ and doctors’ feet pounding as they rushed passed and their perfumes and colognes sweeping behind them, curtains endlessly pulling open and then closed again, clipboards being emptied and added to, pens clicking on and off, bins being opened and closed, fabric rustling.

 

It was twenty minutes of this sensory overload in which Dean wanted to drift into sleep before Sam appeared. He was still carrying Dean’s packed bag, and came to stand beside Dean who was still waiting in the wheelchair, however the paramedics were gone. They’d wheeled the body out of the cubicle, nurses had removed all medical waste and the cleaners has cleaned the room before a porter had wheeled an empty bed back in. The police officers had gone after having a nurse sign a piece of paper and taking the man’s wallet to ID him.

“Have they said anything?” Sam asked, slightly out of breath, looking around and taking in the sights and smells for the first time however Dean considered that his little brother might be as familiar to these sights and smells as the officers who passed him on their way out. Sam was more interested in his brother’s wellbeing to realise that he was completely unaffected by what was going on around him, and had been the same when he’d been brought in with his shoulder.

Dean just shook his head, still looking down and completely unable to look up at Sam and he didn’t say anything else for the next few minutes before a nurse approached them with a piece of paper.

“Mr Winchester?” she asked, looking down at Dean. She had long blonde hair in a plaid that began at the front of the top of her head, keeping her bangs away from her face.

“Yeah,” Dean said softly.

“Alright,” she replied and smiled at him. “We’re gonna get you into a cubicle and get you seen to, okay?” Dean tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it and so he followed it up with a nod. “Can you confirm your date of birth for me?”

“One, twenty-four, seventy-nine,” Dean said while she read from the paper she had.

She nodded. “Perfect, let’s get you-.” She took the brakes off of the wheelchair.

Sam interrupted her as he stepped behind Dean’s chair. “Let me,” he said and resettled Dean’s bag on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said and lingered on his face before she gestured. “This way.”

Dean lifted his right hand when she wasn’t looking and Sam leaned down. “What?” he asked, mildly panicked.

“Get her number,” he said, however it was flat and without his usual life, almost as if he were following through with what he felt he’d usually say but there was no heart in it.

Sam exhaled before he noticed the tone then pushed the chair and to Dean’s horror they were directed to the very cubicle that he’d watched someone die in, yet you’d never have been able to tell: everything was as if it'd never been used.

Sam wheeled the chair towards the bed so that Dean didn’t have to walk too far as she pulled the curtain closed and Dean made to stand but she stopped him.

“Sir, sorry, if you could just wait there a second,” she said and Dean resettled before she looked to Sam. “May I ask who you are?”

“I’m his brother,” Sam said, relaxing his hands on the handles of the chair.

“Perfect,” she said with a smile and then looked to Dean. “I have to ask, are you comfortable with your brother-?”

Dean nodded. “He can stay,” he said and looked away.

She looked between them and Sam tried to reassure her with a smile but even he didn’t believe it.

“Alright,” she gestured to the hospital table against the wall, on top of which sat a folded mass of fabric. “I need you to change into a gown for me but first, are you in any pain anywhere?” She gestured to her own abdomen.

Dean shook his head.

“Great,” she said. “If you could strip off and put the gown on,” she gestured to it again, Sam looking, “open to the back and sit up on the bed for me. Then I’ll come back, fill in your forms and we’ll start. Okay?” Dean nodded. “Any questions?” When Dean shook his head she looked to Sam. “Sir?”

“Uh,” Sam hesitated. “We left all of our insurance information in the apartment, we were in a panic. We’re bounty hunters, we have-.”

“You’ll have public servant-?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I have the numbers written down somewhere.” He began to fish for his own wallet.

She put her hand up. “We’ll sort it out. Gown first, open to the back.” Sam nodded once and turned his head when she left to see her smile at him and then pull the curtain over.

He turned back when he felt Dean move his feet onto the ground. “Do you want help?” He moved to reach out and then steadied the wheelchair when Dean pushed himself to standing on shaky legs.

“I’m a big boy, I can undress myself,” Dean snapped.

Sam would usually be annoyed at his tone and let him know about it but given what was happening he couldn’t bring himself to blame him and so he just backed the wheelchair up to the wall and put the brakes on before dumping the bag on the seat. He hesitated, looking at Dean for a second and then turned his back to allow him privacy; he didn’t want to leave for fear that Dean wouldn’t tell him the full story or wouldn’t let him back in.

Dean glanced to his brother and his face fell, seeing his back turned. He pulled his shirt over his head and stumbled once before pausing to steady himself then slid it off of his arms and let it sit on the bed in front of him. He unfastened his pants and began to push them down, looking down as he lifted his leg to pull them off one by one but stopped when he saw the blood on his thighs and closed his eyes. He tried to swallow the nausea that swelled up in his throat and swayed with the sudden heavy loss he felt. He eased his legs out of his pants and then rested his hands on the bed and shirt in front of him, his pants still on the floor at his feet, while he began to struggle to breathe. He stared at the shirt in front of him and realised it was the same one he’d spilled beer on in Cas’ house. He closed his eyes as each inhale became thin and painful, not anxiety but despair, slowly his right hand came together in a tight fist, clasping the shirt while he lamented what he’d lost; not what could have been – he wasn’t ready for that – but what he’d already had.

Sam sensed he’d ceased movement and wondered if he were in the gown already so turned to look. His automatic reaction was that Dean wasn’t finished and began to turn his head away again but then something about his stance didn’t sit right and it made him look once more. His brow dipped as his eyes were drawn to the blood over Dean’s legs, underwear and lower back and he saw that his brother wasn’t going to get there on his own.

He hesitated, shuffling on his feet for fear of Dean shutting him out, but eventually walked the width of the room to the table against the wall, turning to look at Dean as he lifted the gown and came to his side again.

“It’s okay,” he tried to reassure. “Come on.” He put the gown in his left hand and placed his right on Dean’s clasped one. “It’ll be okay, Dean. Let me help.” Dean lifted his head to look at Sam’s hand on his. “Take the gown.” Sam lifted his hand and took it in his right to hold out to Dean.

Dean slowly pushed himself up to standing and as his hands left the bed and shirt Sam pressed the folded white and blue fabric into his chest. Dean slowly used his right hand to take it and Sam lingered; if he were honest he’d say he expected Dean to look up at him and give him a reassuring nod or smile but Dean still couldn’t look at him yet and so Sam moved behind him and leaned to the floor.

“Let me get these,” he said and pulled at the pants but Dean’s left foot had landed in them as he straightened up and Sam had to tap his ankle twice before Dean lifted it for him. “Great.” Sam stood up and folded them in half then twice more before putting them on the bed.

Dean was still holding the folded up fabric and Sam observed him for a second; he seemed completely vacant and Sam decided that it was clear shock. His face was whiter than usual and he wondered if that was the blood loss, nausea or just because of everything. He hadn’t even moved.

A few cubicles down an omega was arguing with a nurse that a beta shouldn’t be in the same area as her and a nurse was trying to explain that they only had to keep the omegas and alphas separated and if she didn’t calm down she’d call police. However Dean and Sam only heard her scream, _“human scum!”_ at the twelve year old beta female who had developed scarlet fever.

Dean would think about it later, he would think about the times he had beaten kids up over the way they’d treated his brother and who’d been at his side when he had. He’d remember how he thought Benny cared as much about Sam as he did and he’d admonish himself for not seeing it sooner – the delight was in what he could make happen.

Sam took the gown from him and it seemed to grab his attention as he watched it leave his grasp. Sam shook it open and held it in front of him. “Arms in, come on, I thought you were a big boy,” Sam said, expecting Dean to huff and grab the fabric from him, snapping out of his reverie and back into ‘deal’ mode but all he did was put his arms in and let them fall as Sam fixed it on his shoulders. “I’m-, I’m gonna pull your underpants down from the back,” Sam said. “I won’t touch you or look up, I won’t even move, just step out and get on the bed. Okay?”

Dean nodded and Sam knew this was a whole other level neither of them had experienced before. He stood behind Dean, a step’s worth so that he wasn’t too close, and gripped the bottom outside hems of his boxers, he pulled as he kneeled and them stayed on the ground looking at Dean’s feet. He expected Dean to scuttle like a kid in the showers at school but it was a second or two before he even lifted a foot to step forward a little. While Sam folded the underwear and decided they were probably best just disposed of Dean paused and then turned to sit on the bed and heave himself backwards towards the bend, fixing the gown over his thighs.

Sam then stood and glanced to Dean. “I’m just gonna throw these away.” He paused but Dean looked away as he nodded and Sam walked to the medical waste bin and dropped them in before walking back to the bed and taking the clothes that Dean was now resting his legs on. He folded them before leaving them on the desk against the wall, where the gown had been.

He noticed on a chair there was a plastic bag for belongings and a blanket that Dean might have told him that the past resident never got a chance to use. He put Dean’s things in the plastic bag and picked up the blanket as he replaced the bag on the chair. He then walked to the side of Dean’s bed he was now closest too – Dean’s left – and unfolded it, turned it the right way in his hands before draping it over Dean’s legs and then torso. He looked at him the entire time, including when he tucked it around him, and thought he’d never seen him look so frail. He turned and found a plastic chair which he pulled closer to the side of the bed and sat down in it, he didn’t say another word and Dean didn’t either.

They just listened to the sounds of the ward around them.

>><< 

Cas woke from a sleep riddled with weird dreams and images and wiped his face. He’d slept right through the mailman dropping off his mail. His head was on the edge of the sofa and when he opened his eyes he was faced with his fallen cell phone which he picked up.

This time however he went so far as to go into his contacts and hover over Dean’s name.

He let his hand lower as he exhaled and questioned why this need was so strong. He knew he wanted to speak to him but for some reason that he could never explain he felt a longing that wasn’t his: he was almost convinced that Dean needed him.

His finger lingered over the ‘call’ button and he tried to convince himself that he was allowed to call him. “Something,” he said to himself as he pressed it and put the phone to his ear, verbalising his reason.

It rang four times, almost vibrating itself off of Dean’s coffee table, before it went to voicemail.

 _‘This is Dean Winchester. For Sam, the number is the same with zero-two at the end or email swinchester@bunker.net, whatever.’_ Cas smiled at the distain in his voice at the idea of email. _‘For Ellen, add zero-four.’_ Cas idly wondered who had zero-three. _‘In an emergency call 555-0101 and give the name of the hunter you need – or you can page the same number, apparently – they’ll receive an SOS text with your number. For everything else leave a message, like the good old days, huh?’_ BEEP.

Cas hung up before the beep finished. “I’m being ridiculous,” he told himself and dropped his cell back onto the floor where he decided it belonged.

>><< 

Sam felt the tension of the silence in his limbs, he had to force himself to stop moving them around as they buzzed at him and almost screamed for him to do something. But there was nothing he could do, at that moment all he could do was sit there, next to his brother while he hurt, and do nothing.

It was threatening to drive him insane because he knew that there was never going to be anything that he could do to change any of this; he could sit here next to Dean, he could help him change, he could even run back and forth bringing him food, clothes and whatever else that he needed however the end result would always be the same. He wondered if this was what Dean felt when he was a kid and he had to watch their father run himself into the ground on a path of self-destruction knowing that only bringing their mother back would fix it and that was impossible. All Dean could do then was watch from the side lines. The difference was that Dean was holding Sam in his arms and the more he thought about it the more he understood Dean’s overbearing presence in his life; looking after his little brother was the only thing he could do and the only person he could help.

It felt like forever before the nurse returned, she poked her head around the curtain before she pushed it back to step inside, followed by another nurse who pulled the curtain back over behind him.

“Ah, you’ve got a blanket, perfect,” the original nurse said. “Have you got a pillow?”

“No,” Sam said for Dean who didn’t even seem to notice anyone had entered, he was staring into space, clearly any thought of sleeping had been swept from his mind as he didn’t even close his eyes.

“I’ll get you one,” she said and left again.

“Hi,” the other nurse said, looking from Dean to Sam, “I’m Ricky, I’m beta.” Sam only realised then that the other nurse hadn’t given her name and he also knew why this man had given his presentation. He was holding a yellow waste disposal box in gloved hands that Sam recognised was for needles and a pack, of what Sam could only guess, wrapped in his left hand. “Are you Dean?”

“Yes, he is,” Sam answered for him. “I’m his brother, Sam.” Sam didn’t know why he felt the need to introduce himself but he guessed it was to fill the silence and take the attention from Dean.

“Sam, perfect,” Ricky said, Sam looked down feeling like an idiot for introducing himself to someone who just wanted to talk to the patient who he now shifted his attention to. “Dean, I need to take bloods from you, is that okay?”

Dean nodded and shifted on the bed to sit forward a little.

“Alright,” he said and moved to the desk in the corner, pulling it away from the wall and turning it so that he could slot it in at the bottom of the bed, Sam watched him use his left foot to steady it and his right hand to press a lever under the surface which lowered it as close to the bed as it would go. He then put a piece of paper down on the table and looked down at it.

“Can you just confirm your date of birth for me, Dean?”

“One, two-four, seven-nine,” Dean said flatly.

“Great,” the man nodded.

Sam stood up and gestured to the chair as he said, “Here, let me get out of the way.”

“Why change the habit of a lifetime,” Dean said and Sam looked to him, hearing and now seeing the flatness behind the comment, knowing it was all auto-pilot. He smiled tightly and took some steps backwards as the nurse awkwardly dipped in and took his warm seat, pulling it closer to the bed.

The other nurse ducked in and Sam’s muscles twitched as something told him to take the pillow from her but she strode towards the bed and tucked it behind Dean. “Relax,” she said and used her right hand on his shoulder to urge him to lie back. “Do you need me to adjust the bed?”

Again Dean merely shook his head.

She smiled tight-lipped and then looked to Sam who mirrored her before looking down, putting his hands in his front jean pockets.

“Are you okay with needles?” Ricky asked Dean.

Dean just nodded and moved his left arm out to him while the other nurse moved towards Sam. “Do you maybe want to see if we can find your insurance on the system while they do their thing?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said then glanced to Dean as he moved towards the curtain and stopped at the bottom of the bed. “Yeah, uh, Dean?” he said. “Just gonna get the insurance figured out.” Dean nodded. “Just be out there.” Sam followed the woman out.

Dean didn’t look down as the nurse put the box down on the bed beside him or set out three transparent cylindrical tubes with fasteners at the top or pull the cannula out of a packet. He barely even twitched when the nurse felt the crook of his elbow with the tips of his middle and index fingers of his left hand, using his right to move Dean’s wrist out to let it hang from the bed and increase the blood flow to the tips of his fingers.

“Strong vein there,” he said and when there was no indication from the patient that he’d heard he took it as the last sign that whatever had happened was too traumatic for small talk and wrapped the tourniquet around his arm before he pulled it tight without further remark. He ripped an alcohol wipe open and used it to rub Dean’s skin, Dean considered that it was like wet sandpaper but otherwise he didn’t react. “Sharp scratch,” the nurse said just before he pushed the butterfly needle into the skin and vein, immediately the tube filled with blood but stopped at the end. With his right fingers the nurse held the needle in place and used his left hand to attach one of the containers, pushing the top into the receptor at the end of the tube and turning it with zero difficulty. It immediately began filling with blood and he mentally marked this as a ‘steady supply’, while some blood merely dripped his needed no more coaxing.

One by one he filled the tubes and then laid them on the bed. He took a piece of wool that was sitting on the tray at the bottom of the waste disposal box and, when he slid the needle out of the Dean’s arm just after he had snapped the tourniquet off, he put the cotton ball in its place and held it there for a few seconds before lifting it and watching blood form in the puncture wound to assess how quick it would clot. He replaced it and waited before doing it again then decided it wasn’t going to clot quick enough. “Hold that in place for me,” he said and Dean’s right arm slowly came across, his hand softly clasped over the man’s who removed his. “Just until it stops,” he added and looked into Dean’s face; there was a single tear rolling down his left cheek but he seemed not to notice it.

The man felt like he was observing something not meant for him and so he looked down as he put the needle and tube in the box, folded the tourniquet up and then stood up, moving everything he had to the table at the end of the bed. He lifted the piece of paper from the surface and took stickers from it, wrapping one around every tube of blood he’d collected and then used a pen he had in his pocket – which he found he’d left clicked open – to sign each one and put them in a plastic bag. He then moved back to Dean and leaned down. “Let me see,” he said, Dean slowly removed his hand and as the man moved the wool to see a red dot on it Dean’s hand came up to his face and swiftly removed the tear as it reached his chin. Ricky looked to the movement but then replaced the wool and lifted Dean’s arm at the elbow. “Keep that up for a couple of minutes, I don’t have a band-aid for you.”

Dean nodded once and stared ahead.

“I’ll get these off to testing for you, someone-, probably Julie will come and ask you questions and then you’ll have an examination.” He paused. “An internal.”

He knew the general idea why Dean was here but he wasn’t sure of the details and that was the reason why, where he’d usually put his hand on the man in front of him and try to reassure him, he didn’t. He wasn’t sure if he’d had a miscarriage or been raped, either way he thought this patient might not relish physical contact, even from a beta, and so he merely slipped out of the curtain with the box, his bag of full tubes and the piece of paper.

Seeing the man walk off down the corridor Sam looked back to the woman in front of him and waited before he looked up.

“Dean Winchester, address in Kansas?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a nodded.

“Got it,” she said.

“Great, I’m gonna-,” he said and gestured over his shoulder. She barely nodded before he turned, nearly hurling over a passing gurney, and slipped back into the cubicle. He said nothing as he sat back down beside Dean who’s hand was still in the air. “Insurance is sorted.” He reached to Dean’s hand and pulled it down and then removed the cotton pad to look, when there was a tiny blob of blood Sam wiped it and, seeing it reappear, he replaced it and then lifted Dean’s hand again before sitting back.

 

It was a further half an hour – the puncture wound having clotted and the wool in the trash – before the original nurse came to question him. She stood at the bottom of his bed having raised the level on the table there she was filling in his answers on his personal details – lingering over his prolonged use of heat suppressors – and then got onto what happened that morning; Sam couldn’t help but be unsettled by how to-the-point his answers were, and he said no more than was needed so when she asked how he’d felt the night before he merely said, “Fine.”

Sam had to jump in, “You were sleeping in the middle of the day.”

“Were you feeling especially tired?” she asked Dean.

“Lethargic,” Dean said.

“Okay,” she said, writing it down. “What about the past few days, still tired?” Dean nodded. “And your last heat, when was that?”

“A few weeks ago,” Dean mumbled, wishing she’d just leave the form.

“How many?”

Dean shrugged. “Three, four,” he said and she began to write it down. “Didn’t come.”

She looked up. “It didn’t come?” Dean shook his head. “What about your last period?” Dean paused and then shook his head again. “The heat before?” Dean just swallowed.

Sam sensed she might get more out of Dean if he weren’t in the room so he gestured as he stood. “I’m just gonna-, I need the restroom.” Dean closed his eyes in embarrassment as Sam slipped out of the curtain and looked down as he pulled it over behind him before disappearing.

“The last heat,” Dean said slowly, “was shortened.”

“Why was that?” she asked, her voice was lower in volume and softer. Dean hated the pity laced in every syllable.

“Another alpha interrupted us,” he said.

“Were you attacked?” she asked after a pause and Dean shook his head. “No?”

Dean sighed, knowing she didn’t believe him. “She scented me before he could, that was all.”

“So that’s why you weren’t worried when your heat and period didn’t show?”

Dean nodded, she opened her mouth to talk but he beat her to it. “To be honest, I was told to expect my body to be up and down, after coming off of those tablets so I just-.” He shrugged.

“Okay.” She took a minute to note it all down and then looked to him. “Do you want us to notify anyone for you, honey?”

Dean had to catch a sob in his throat at the last word and shook his head.

“Can I have someone examine you now?” she asked.

Dean nodded then, when she lifted the papers to leave he cleared his throat and she looked. “Can you tell Sam?”

“Do you want him in the room?” she asked.

Dean shook his head. “Just tell him, in case he comes back.”

She nodded and noticed the chair in the corner so she took the brakes off, replaced Dean’s bag on a nearby plastic chair and left the cubicle with the wheelchair. A few minutes later she slipped her hand in at the side of the curtain and left a kit on the chair there when a code came in and she had to run off but Dean wasn’t looking and didn’t care anyway.

By the time another nurse approached the room and hung up the sign outside the cubicle that told others that a personal examination was being conducted and not to enter Dean felt like he was ready to vomit or become hysterical with laughter and he wasn’t sure which it would be.

He ducked his head. “Hi,” he said. “Can I come in?” Dean just nodded and looked away so he slipped in and pulled the curtain over, he attached a clip to the side that had a hook on it that he slipped through a ring on the wall and then walked to the other side to do the same; it stopped the curtain swaying and revealing what was going on inside.

He stopped in the middle of the room, holding a piece of paper gestured to himself as he spoke, “I’m Tian, can I call you Dean?” Dean just nodded again and so he stepped forward to the table and put the paper down. “You’ve probably had this a hundred times already today but can you confirm your date of birth for me?”

“January twenty-fourth, seventy-nine,” Dean said slowly.

“Thank you,” he said and leaned his hands on the table. “I just want you to know that while I’m here to examine you this is _your_ examination. That means that you call the shots, Dean. If you want me to stop then I stop, any number of times for however long you want to stop for. I’m not gonna ask you to hold on or bear it for another second or two, it stops as soon as you say so. I am not pressed for time, it takes as long as it takes, okay?”

Dean nodded, not sure he believed him or cared. He was being so considerate and Dean wondered if this was what the kids at school spoke about when they said their step-dads were trying too hard to be their friends. They said it was lame but Dean interpreted it as if he were made of glass and this guy was too scared that he’d break. Or worse, maybe he thought Dean deserved compassion whereas Dean felt disgusting, they didn’t know that it was all his fault and if they did they wouldn’t be treating him this way.

The man washed his hands and lower arms at the sink and then put gloves on that he’d pulled from a unit on the wall while Dean wondered when was the last time the insides of that unit were disinfected. He walked to the side of Dean’s feet and Dean wondered why he was slowly approaching him closer and closer like a mad nag that might kick out at any second. Didn’t he know that this nag was diseased and deserved to be put down?

“I need to examine you internally and collect swabs-.” He suddenly noticed there was nothing else on the table and looked around. “Which should be-.” He spotted them in the corner and Dean wondered when they had been put there. “Ah!” He picked up the kit that Julie had left.

Dean knew what an internal examine felt like; Lisa had carried one out after his first heat and he was due another smear soon however this was different. He was not prepared for the sheer intensity of intrusion that increased from the minute the man set up.

The man moved the desk away and let the end of the bed drop before having to take off his gloves and replace them. He sat in Sam’s abandoned chair at the end of the bed, lifted the blanket at the bottom to allow him access then asked Dean to lift his knees up, letting his feet almost touch his buttocks, and let his leg fall apart at the knees. Dean already felt exposed and then the man used jelly on his gloves and instruments.

Dean felt his body tense despite Tian’s reminders to relax, it wanted him to crawl away from this, to be alone to suffer. It was as if a secret devastation had occurred and it was supposed to be private, it was supposed to be between Dean and his body, it was the epitome of personal and it needed to be protected. This was supposed to be his to endure, to feel, to defend.

Their empathy meant that someone else was sharing in his anguish, this examination meant that someone else shared in the ruin. It was no longer just his: it was Sam’s, the 991 responder’s, the paramedics’, the ER nurses’, the people in the lab’s, and anyone else who came in the curtain.

He didn’t want it to be everyone else’s, he wanted to keep it. He thought about Cas and suddenly his stomach lurched.

The nurse had done a hundred of these and was watching his patient out the corner of his eyes so that when Dean twitched he knew what was happening, he stood up and ran to the corner where there were a stack of bedpans which he grabbed and thrust it at Dean as he stood beside him, catching the vomit as it came out.

“It’s okay,” the nurse said as Dean let his right leg come down to meet his left and his eyes moved to where Tian’s gloved hand was holding the side of the bedpans, which he hadn’t had time to separate. On his gloves were blood and Dean closed his eyes as his stomach contracted again. The nurse reassured him this was normal as he mentally listed what he needed to do. “It’s shock,” he said, as an afterthought.

Dean resented sharing yet another part of this with a stranger but when a voice in his head reminded him that he’d have to wait thirty minutes to brush his teeth he sobbed as he retched, only bile coming up.

 

Once Dean’s stomach had stopped trying to bring up the non-existent contents left the nurse took the bedpan away and replaced an empty one at his side just in case then took his gloves off, rewashed his hands and put a new pair on. He then instructed Dean to reposition his legs, which involved moving the blanket again and the cold reminded him that his skin was stained red with the dried blood, this included his penis and testicles.

Dean turned his head to his left side and closed his eyes tight when the man asked him to hold his testicles and penis up away from his opening again. He didn’t want to touch them but he knew he had to and so as he did he said, “When can I wash the blood off?”

The man paused. “I don’t know, Dean, I’m sorry,” he said.

Dean nodded, hating the feeling of the heat of his hands on his penis and testicles.

And then there was pain again as his examination resumed in earnest. A speculum was inserted and used to open Dean’s cervix and Tian reminded him not to tense, that there might be pain and sensitivity and even a little blood but they could stop whenever he wanted.

Dean shook his head and the man continued.

As the nurse collected samples and sealed them in different tubes and bags the enormity of what had happened dawned on Dean, what everyone else knew and were just confirming medically.

“That’s me,” the man said and Dean turned on his right side, pulling the blanket over himself, and, despite of all of his practice bottling things up, cutting off emotion and burying his feelings, he began to cry. It was slow, quiet and the tears fell hot on his face, immediately falling to the pillow on his right side but collecting at the left side of his nose.

The man went to the sink, took his gloves off and washed his hands before he put more gloves on – to ensure that any residue on the samples wouldn’t transfer to him – then collected them up and left the room without saying anything further to the distraught patient.

He took the time to put his hand in with the intension of putting the hook through the ring there to afford the man more privacy when a tall man with long hair who was nervously waiting there approached him.

“Can I go in?” he asked.

The nurse hesitated, letting the hook fall unconnected, and when he spoke his voice was a whisper, making Sam lean in to hear him, “He knows what’s happening and I think it’s only just hit him.” The shared a look and then he walked to the other end of the curtain, lifted the sign from the hook and walked away.

Sam stood at the curtain, looking in the sliver opening as the curtain swayed and began to settle, and saw his brother gripping his pillow to his face and his body shaking.It occurred to Sam as he stood there that they could try to salvage their fading relationship but he would never be the older brother, dad’s carer, the omega – teenager or adult – the closeted gay teenager or the adult coming out, he’d never know what a heat was like for either party.

He’d never know how Dean felt and he thought he never had.

Dean felt someone watching him so he looked straight to the opening and saw Sam standing watching him. He couldn’t stand the look on his face. The night before Dean had asked him what the lure of that particular drug was and Sam had answered honestly: it made him feel powerful. He felt like he could deal with anything: never having a mother, their dad telling him not to come back, not seeing Dean, the pressure from school, Jess death, his own failed dreams. That was what Dean could see on his face: powerlessness.

He wouldn’t know it but that was exactly what Sam could see when he looked at Dean, tears streamed down his face and staring at his little brother like something between them had been smashed and couldn’t be repaired. Like he’d never be Batman to him again.

Sam was so unsure of what to do that he took a step into the cubicle and then stopped. Dean looked to his left away from him, ashamed of everything that had and was happening.

“Dean,” Sam said so gently, hoping that Dean read in it everything that he was too scared and inadequate to voice. That he couldn’t even imagine how he was feeling, that he didn’t want to push but all Dean had to do was ask for whatever he needed and Sam would get it for him.

“Sam,” Dean croaked and Sam slowly walked towards him, waiting for him to yell at him to keep back. “I-,” he said, not sure what he was going to say. Sam watched his face redden further around his eyes and nose, tears continue to crawl down his face and then his face twitched with emotion. “I-,” he tried again, not sure he had it in him to get out everything he felt, unsure where he’d even start. He shook his head when he could feel the emotion swell up and knew there was no chance in stopping it now.

He turned his face back into the bed as cried more intensely and punched the mattress with his right hand, his right knee lifted as he did so. To Sam's surprise he turned onto his knees and punched the pillow and mattress.

Sam stepped forward and fixed the blanket as it fell down, he held it in the air, somehow expecting Dean to just turn around again but then dropped it when it was obvious he wasn’t going to. Dean leaned his forehead against the mattress. “It’s okay,” Sam said as Dean punched again, not as hard as the last time, and Sam just stood as Dean’s sobs became audible. “Okay,” Sam said, slightly panicked, he wasn’t used to having to be the strong one and he was unsure of what to say.

In the end he wrapped his left arm across Dean’s front and his right around Dean’s back, pulling him towards him.

Dean let out a sob. “Sam,” he said, as if he were denying him an outlet but for Dean it was a lost plea – he didn’t know what to do to make it better.

Sam knew he could say everything would get better but he wasn’t sure about that as he heard the man who raised him sob while his lower half was still covered in blood. So he said the one thing that he was sure of, “I’m here.” He lifted his right hand to pull Dean’s head towards his chest. “I’m always here.”

>><< 

Cas was aware of the heavy weight of loss sitting on his chest, of the sense of helplessness and pain, however he’d still been surprised when he’d burst out crying in the middle of the afternoon. He kept wiping his face, the need in him to prevent his emotions showing was new to him and yet he didn’t feel like it was inside him either.

Something was wrong, it had to be, there was no other explanation for the way that he felt.

He thought about finally calling Dean but instead he sent a text, hoping that it might make him seem less pathetic or crazy.

_‘Hello Dean, I hope you are well. I will be honest, I have this inexplicable need to hear your voice or see you again soon. Perhaps work is taking more of a toll on me than I thought but I’m suffering from this haunting feeling that something is wrong and it won’t go away. I understand that you’re busy but if you could let me know that you’re okay I would appreciate it. Castiel.’_

>><< 

It was dark and well into the same evening when Dean took this stairs up towards his apartment on wobbly legs. Sam had tried to help him out of his car but Dean had pushed him aside with his arm and so Sam didn’t offer to help with the stairs, instead he just carried his bag for him. He looked as Dean gripped the barrister and pulled his weight up, the puncture mark from where they’d taken more blood could be seen on the back of his hand. They’d had to put fluids in the left arm and couldn’t get another vein so they’d taken it from his hand. His blood had clotted so quickly that time that they hadn’t even needed to press wool to it for more than a few seconds.

Sam thought that he could have gotten a vein out of his arm if he’d been able to try but then pushed the thought away, concentrating on making sure that he was ready to catch Dean if he stumbled and fell so he fixed Dean’s bag on his shoulder and kept walking a few steps behind him. He still didn’t think Dean should have been released but there was nothing he could do: the hospital tests confirmed what they already knew but otherwise he was healthy. They'd given him leaflets that Sam knew he'd never read for groups he'd never go to and helplines he'd never call.

When they got to his landing Dean stopped momentarily making Sam look from his face to his legs, wondering what was going on. Dean exhaled and then walked along to his front door, stopping to take out his keys but came up empty. Sam held them out but Dean just sighed and gestured his hand, stepping back to let him in.

“Man, I’m starving,” he mumbled as Sam opened the apartment door.

Sam put the bag on the kitchen table and then went right to the refrigerator, pulling the door open and looking inside to find it pitifully empty except for milk, half an onion and three bottles of beer left over from last night. “What do you want?” Sam asked.

Dean closed the door and walked to the couch, throwing himself down on his back. “Beef,” he said and put his arm over his eyes.

Sam paused, closing the door and walking to the back of the couch. “Just beef?” he asked and Dean grunted. “ _Any_ beef?”

“Yeah,” Dean said and sat up, leaning to his cell phone on the coffee table and found it dead so he threw it back onto the table and reached for the landline. “I’m gonna order food, you want anything?”

“Uh,” Sam hesitated watching him use speed-dial. “Sure, whatcha getting?”

“Cheeseburger, the usual,” Dean replied as the phone began to ring.

Sam nodded. “Same,” he said. “Do you want me to go pick it up?”

Dean shook his head and put his hand up. “Hi,” he said into the speaker, “I wanted to order a delivery but could you hold on two seconds? Thank you.” He looked up at Sam. “There is something I need you to do for me.”

“What?” Sam asked. “Anything.”

“Get rid of the sheets,” Dean said and Sam nodded.

Dean turned his attention back to the phone while Sam went to the kitchen sink where he found unopened rubber gloves and a trash bag. Dean finished the order after Sam entered the bedroom and then Dean walked into the bathroom to finally have that shower he’d been asking for all morning but never got.

Sam closed Dean’s bedroom door behind him, turned the light on and observed the devastation they’d left behind them that morning. It felt like a lifetime ago. It remind Sam of crime scene photos of a drug-related stabbing he’d looked into after chasing a bail for a while. He opened the bag and then draped it over his arm to open the packet of gloves which he then put on and dropped the packet in the bag. In a split-second decision he resolved to bin the duvet too and buy him another one, it wasn’t that hot any more anyway.

He opened the bag properly and left it on the bed before he folded the duvet over then rolled it up. He had to muscle it into the trash bag and exhaled with the effort as he dumped it on the floor then reached to pull the sheet off. He paused when he saw the stain underneath but there was something off about the colour – a cream rather than the expected white – so he pulled at it and was surprised to find it was another sheet. However, he was even more shocked when the mattress underneath was revealed to be untouched. As he was stuffing them both into the bag he realised the second sheet seemed to be rubber and he wondered who came up with these things.

He took a look around the room for anything else that might have been covered in blood and then sat down, considering the sheet in his mind he wondered what Dean had bought it for but knew that there was no way that this is where his brother thought things would end up.

 

Dean stood in the shower scrubbing as hard as he could, enough to make him bare his teeth and he watched the water run from red to clear. He stopped, out of breath, and leaned his left side against the tiled cubicle and then lifted the sponge to look at it smeared red and almost torn apart. He threw it to the sink and turned to quickly wash his hair after which his hand hovered over the heat body wash before grabbing it and rubbing it all over, hoping that the moisturising qualities and lack of harmful chemicals would counter some of the damage his tirade had done.

Sam looked to the empty couch as he carried the tied bag out of Dean’s room, his hands were now bare and the gloves were inside it. He heard running water and left the room, taking the bag straight to the chute.

When he walked back in Dean was leaving his bedroom in jogging pants a long sleeve t-shirt and walking towards the kitchen with his hair still damp.

“What do you want?” Sam asked as he closed the door. “I’ll get it, sit down.” He walked towards Dean.

“I’m not an invalid, Sam!” Dean yelled at him, his brow set into annoyance, as he pulled the refrigerator door open.

“Right, sorry,” Sam said and then watched Dean take out a beer, toss the cap in the sink and then close the door, giving Sam an angry glance as he went to sit down again. Sam rounded the couch and sat in the armchair looking at his brother.

Dean glanced to him. “What?” he asked.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Sam asked, sitting forward and rubbing his hands together, his fingers pointing to the floor.

Dean nodded as he took a drink and swallowed as he lowered the beer bottle to speak. “Sure, Sam. Which part? Let’s see, I had sex,” Sam looked to the side with an exhale, knowing he should have seen the attitude coming, “I got _sorta_ pregnant and then _sorta_ had a miscarriage and now I need new sheets. Take your pick.” He took another swig of his drink, looking to the TV as if it were on.

Sam sighed, his brow dipping. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know,” Dean said.

“Not the pregnancy, Dean-,” Sam said.

“Sorta pregnancy,” Dean corrected. “And what did you want me to do? Call a meeting in the bunker? Send out a group text?”

“I mean, who was it? How’d you meet him-?” Dean looked to him. “Them,” he corrected. “You said sex, you weren’t attacked?”

“No,” Dean said, “I wasn’t attacked. Look, I really don’t want to-.”

“Well, tough,” Sam interrupted and Dean turned his head to look at his brother again. “You keep enough from me, Dean. We’re talking about his,” he pointed to the floor, “right now.”

Dean looked ahead, the right side of his mouth lifting, not in amusement but distain. “You’re full of it.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised in momentary surprise and then dipped as his jaw set in an indignant smile. “Excuse me?”

Dean turned his head to look at Sam. “You, sitting there telling me that I don’t tell you enough but you keep a lot from me too. You know why? Because that’s who we are, Sam. That’s who Dad raised us to be.”

“We’re not kids anymore, Dean,” Sam said. “We’ve made our own choices.”

“Really?” Dean asked, clearly unconvinced. “Because we’re still doing the same job.”

“Yeah, because we want to. I’m not a hunter just because that’s what I was raised to be. Are you?”

Dean paused. “I don’t know,” he admitted and sighed as he let his beer come down to rest in his lap. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

Sam regarded his brother for a few seconds. “Talk to me, Dean.” Dean looked at him. “Please.”

Dean looked forward and then lifted his beer, pausing to speak before he drank. “Ask me what you wanna know but as soon as the food comes this girl talk is over.”

Sam nodded, raising his eyebrows again, wondering what else he expected and knowing that he never thought Dean would actually give in.

“What’s their name?” Sam asked.

“Castiel,” Dean replied.

“Unusual,” Sam commented.

“Well, he’s unusual,” Dean said, his voice soft.

“When’d you meet him, on that case in Illinois?”

“I met him seven years ago right here in Kansas,” Dean replied.

“This has been going on seven years?!” Sam exclaimed, moving forward in his chair.

“No,” Dean replied. “I met him during my first heat and I saw him again about a year ago-.”

“Wait,” Sam interrupted with his right hand slightly in the air. “Your first heat?” Dean nodded. “But you said that you didn’t sleep with anyone-?”

“I didn’t,” Dean confirmed. “I told you-.”

“That alpha that saved you from-?” Sam started but stopped when Dean nodded. “Your alpha is that guy, the guy who was too late to find?”

“He’s not _my_ alpha, okay!” Dean snapped. “We just-, we share heats. That’s it.”

“For a year?”

“That’s only four heats, Sammy.” He lifted his left hand and spread four fingers, tucking his thumb down. “Four weeks.” He lowered his hand. “If that.”

“What does that mean?”

Dean sighed and shifted in his seat. “The first two heats were fine but at the start of the third another alpha tried to get between us.” Dean thought back to the feeling of Cas’ desk cutting into his upper legs as he tried to move away from her. “Well, she did get in between us,” he said as he remembered the way she’d touched his neck and then a shudder brought him out of it. “Anyway,” he said and shifted again, “it screwed up the bond, which screws with the heat and we assumed that’s why the last one didn’t show.” He swallowed. “Guess we know different now.” He took another drink.

“So three weeks,” Sam surmised and Dean’s brow dipped in confusion as he lowered the bottle. “Well, the last one didn’t show so he left, right?”

Dean looked ahead and nodded. “Yeah, he left.” Sam watched him as he shrugged. “Of course he left.” He sensed Sam watching him and so when he looked he gestured with his free hand as he asked defensively, “What?”

“How long’d he spend here, two days?” Dean pushed out his lips. “Three?”

“Eight, alright!” Dean shot at him without looking.

Sam smiled. “That sounds like he’s your alpha, Dean.”

“Yeah? Says who?” Dean spat.

“Ask anyone.”

Dean used the index finger of his beer bottle carrying hand to point to his own chest. “I don’t need anyone to tell me about my own life.”

“Well, someone shoulda told you two to suit up,” Sam said.

Dean exhaled a laugh and nodded. “Can’t argue with that,” he agreed. “We’re not stupid – the dude’s an accountant – but we were _really dumb_.” He shook his head.

“So you guys have never had sex out of heat?”

“No,” Dean said.

Sam smiled wider. “Liar,” he accused, although it was more of a statement.

Dean looked at him and then ahead before he decided there was no harm in admitting it so he shrugged. “Maybe once,” he said and could sense Sam staring him disbelievingly. “Or twice.” Dean glanced to him and he raised his eyebrows. “Oh, shut up!” he said and watched Sam laugh with a twitch of his body. “You seriously think that he stayed here for eight days and we didn’t even touch each other?”

“So you’re attracted to him out of heat?”

“Of course I am, being in heat doesn’t manifest attraction, despite what they try to claim on Jeremy Kyle, it enhances it.”

Sam nodded then gestured to himself. “I wouldn’t know.”

Dean chuckled and looked down at his bottle. “You know, a year ago I would have said you were lucky.”

“Not now?”

Dean shook his head slowly, his eyes as far away as his thoughts while a small smile spread on his face before he suddenly snapped back into the room, his smile falling and clarity returning to his eyes. “How am I gonna tell him, Sam?” he asked in a painful whisper.

Sam hesitated and Dean glanced to him before looking down at the beer bottle as he worked his thumb into the edge of the label. “You just tell him-.”

“That I lost his kid,” Dean finished.

Sam’s brow lifted in the middle in despair as he said, “This isn’t your fault, Dean.”

“I’m the one who put that crap in my body for six years when everyone told me not to. I’m the one that screwed up the plumbing. I lost that kid, Sam.” He lifted his bottle to take a drink but paused. “I did that.”

“Dean, you were a scared little kid. You didn’t take them thinking you might get pregnant, if you’d known what would’ve happened you _know_ you wouldn’t have taken them.” Dean looked to him. “Don’t you? I know you wouldn’t have.” Dean looked ahead. “The hospital said it could’ve been anything, it wasn’t definitely the suppressors.”

“It was, I know it was,” Dean insisted. “I don’t think I can tell him.”

“He’ll understand, Dean, if he cares about you. Does he?” Dean looked to his brother again. “Does he care about you?”

Dean swallowed and looked down before he nodded. “Yeah, he does,” he said quietly.

“But he’s totally not your alpha?” Sam asked and Dean looked to his right with a sigh. “He’s just someone you have sex with every few months? There’s no emotions, no deep connection, nothing but sex?”

“He’s not _just_ someone I have sex with,” Dean admitted.

“Then he’s what, Dean?” Sam persisted.

“Why does it matter what we call it, Sam?” Sam lifted his head, almost hearing the gate slamming down. “We know what’s between us; it’s more than sex, we don’t know what it is but it’s more than that!”

“You’ve spoken about it?” Dean suddenly shifted uncomfortably in his seat and closed his eyes, knowing he’d fallen right into Sam’s trap. “You have, haven’t you?”

“Shut up!” Dean huffed and looked over his shoulder before checking his watch. “Where is this damn food?”

“That’s cute,” Sam teased. “Already having _the talk,_ next you’ll be talking about your childhood’s at three in the morning-” Dean snorted derisively and looked to his right and Sam smiled. “Or maybe you already have.”

Dean shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “Well, it’s not like we scheduled it, it just happened. It’s called pillow talk, if you’d ever got laid maybe you’d know!”

“Dude, until last year you were the poster boy for abstinence,” Dean bristled. “When are you gonna pick out cute nicknames?”

“Alright,” Dean said and put his hand down to push himself to standing as he added, “question time’s over.” He rounded the couch to the kitchen.

Sam’s mouth fell open as he stood and followed him. “You have nicknames!”

“This is why I don’t tell you anything,” Dean said and put his empty bottle in the recycling.

“What are they?” Sam asked from the other side of the refrigerator door as Dean opened it to take another beer out.

“What does it matter what we call each other?” Dean asked and threw the cap in the sink while Sam closed the door.

“So you _do_ have nicknames?”

Dean sighed and looked at him. “Why are you like this?”

“You know Charlie will drag it out of you,” Sam said.

“No,” Dean said and pointed at him, “you don’t tell her, you don’t tell anyone.”

Sam’s brow dipped. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want everyone knowing my business!”

Sam’s eyebrows raised but he retained his confused expression. “Telling people you have a boyfriend is not-.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Sam, just like I don’t have an alpha. God!” He gestured to him. “This is _exactly_ why I didn’t want to tell you or anyone else.”

“Why?”

“Because of that!” He gestured to the air in between them. “You will all make it more than it is!”

“And what is it, Dean?” Sam shot back. “Do you even know?”

“No!” Dean shouted at him. “No, I don’t. I don’t know what this thing with Cas is. It was just heats and I thought we were keeping it that way. We should have kept it that way. Before the feelings and pillow talks and nicknames and opening up.”

“So, what changed?” Sam asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

“He did,” Dean said. “He changed.”

“How?”

“He just-.” Dean exhaled. “He started doing these things. He’d-.” Dean thought about how Cas’d hold him in the night, make him laugh. “He’d-.” He thought about when Cas said he was normal, that he was allowed to feel things, he was allowed to be messed up and perfect in the same breath. “He’d say things.”

“Like what?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I told him how being an omega makes me feel – weak, base-.”

“It does?” Sam asked, wondering why Dean had never told him that before.

“Not as much now,” Dean said. “He changed that and it didn’t do it by saying I was being stupid. I told him about Benny.” Sam’s face fell to serious and his jaw tensed. “He told me it wasn’t my fault.” Dean nodded. “And I think I believed him.”

“He didn’t change,” Sam said and Dean looked up to him. “How you felt about him changed.” Dean scoffed and turned to the counter, putting his beer down. “Oh, yeah? You don’t feel anything when he touches you?” Dean looked to him and Sam put his hand up. “I don’t mean like that.” Dean looked ahead again. “I mean lying in bed, half asleep, maybe he puts his arm around you and you don’t smile? He hugs you and you don’t feel comforted? Or when he makes little gestures, makes you coffee, flirts with you, gets you a beer, you don’t feel _anything_?”

Dean tilted his head. “I didn’t say I don’t feel _anything_. I care about him too.”

“What about when he’s not looking, ever find yourself just staring at him, smiling because he’s there, he exists and you feel so damn lucky?” Dean looked to his brother and saw the redness around his eyes and emotion he was trying to conceal as he thought about Jess and he looked away. “So privileged.”

Dean’s head snapped back to look at him, his mouth opened and all thought for his brother’s loss disappeared from his mind. He took a step toward Sam while his brow dipped severely. “What did you just say?”

Sam’s eyes suddenly moved to Dean’s as he sensed a difference in his tone. “What? I said privileged. I felt privileged every second I knew Jessica.”

“What does that mean?” Dean asked.

Sam hesitated, taking in his brother’s features and his eyes narrowed. “Do you feel privileged with Castiel?”

Dean hesitated. “Yeah, what does that mean?”

“It means he’s your alpha, Dean,” Sam said and then the intercom buzzed so Sam went to let the delivery driver in, leaving Dean staring forward trying to wrap his head around everything.

 

They sat down to eat and Sam watched Dean, his brother who had been keeping a secret relationship from him for a year, his brother who clearly cared a great deal for Castiel and perhaps more than he realised.

Sam let the memory of realising he was in love with Jessica play in his mind; it had been in the dead of the night when she’d started talking in her sleep again and Sam couldn’t quite decipher what was going on. She had gotten up to take a blind walk to the bathroom and back and she misjudged the distance and tripped over the end of the bed and Sam stood up and kneeled down to make sure she was okay.

She looked up at him, eyes barely open, hands on the floor and a groan of pain in the air. He swept the hair from her face and she began laughing. He helped her back into bed with the assurance that she hadn’t hurt herself and felt her wrap her arm around him and he’d known that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

She was the one person in his life who looked at him and didn’t see a kid, the one who’d asked his story and invited him to be her roommate to escape from the pressures of proving his father right and finding money for a motel room every few weeks, the one who had lived and laughed with him for just a week before they’d ended up in bed together without regrets or questions. She’d been the one.

But then she had become another one he could disappoint or lose.

He quietly grew to love her but he also hated her for doing that to him and then he despised himself for ever feeling anything but adoration for the one he had lost, the one who would never come back. The one.

 

Dean would eventually charge his phone and see the text from Cas and then cry in the darkness of his bedroom under a collection of mismatched sheets and blankets. He'd play the explanation the doctor gave him over and over and wonder how he could ever repeat those words to Cas. How could he ever explain to him that he'd let him down?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two months since Dean found out he'd lost a baby but is he dealing with it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I haven't posted in a while I haven't been well (mentally) but I have been reading your comments so thank you for them! Hopefully you won't hate me too much for this chapter. *runs away*

Dean sat in the doctor’s waiting room tapping on his knee; it was twenty minutes passed his appointment and he looked around him at the various people in the room.

There were a few kids; one was about fourteen in a maroon school uniform sitting with a bag on his back and a long case beside him, (Dean assumed some sport equipment but wasn’t sure), while his mother sat looking at her cell phone; the other kid, in just a t-shit and diaper, was barely a toddler and was currently asleep in their father’s arms as he touched the child's forehead to feel for a fever, he was in jeans, white t-shirt and a fluorescent jacket; an elderly woman was wrapped in a beige woollen jacket, a rose-red beret and was doing a crossword in a newspaper.

Dean turned to look over his shoulder, taking a quick sweep at the people behind him; there was an opposite-sex couple of about twenty who were having a conversation in low voices and smiling at each other while they held hands – Dean took a second look at the girl’s dark hair, dark clothes and dark make-up and the boy’s baggy pants and equally baggy sweater – and laughed together; sitting close to them (Dean assumed there had been more people and neither party had moved away when space opened up) was a bigger woman with her arm in a sling and her eyes closed as she leaned back in her chair; at the far end of the long bench Dean was sitting on was an elderly man who was reading a book and a slight lean towards him alerted the man to Dean’s presence.

Dean’s mouth opened a little in being caught out so he gestured to the book. “Sorry, I was just wondering what you’re reading,” he said in a low tone however the woman’s eyes opened and the near-teenage boy looked up.

The elderly man, who had merely wisps of hair left on his head and a dark blue jacket over a red plaid shirt and grey t-shirt as well as old jeans and Doc Martens, turned the book so that Dean could read the cover.

 _‘The Inevitable’_ was the title Dean read and he immediately recognized it as a tale about an alpha and omega in the same village who initially can’t stand each other; she finds him rude and arrogant and everything she despises in alphas while he finds her brash, fanciful and untamed. They eventually end up together because the ownership and taming of omegas is as the name suggests. Dean heard it was a retelling of an old human novel by Jane Austen that had been updated to reflect the current species.

He nodded to the man who stared at him. “Good choice,” Dean said and looked away before he exhaled and stood up, walking towards the desk to ask just when he could be put out of his misery however he heard his name be called from the other end of the room - behind him - before he got three steps.

He turned on his feet and a nurse looked at him expectantly so he nodded and walked towards her.

“Dean?” she asked as he approached.

“Yeah,” he said.

She gestured her head as she turned. “Come through,” she said and walked away down a corridor lined doors all of which were closed except the third on the left. She entered through it and stood beside it as he stepped inside, waiting to close it behind them.

The walls were cream coloured while the carpets were ‘school-room’ blue, to the left of the room, against the wall immediately ahead, was a desk and chair tucked in with another sitting askew to the side, while to the far right against the wall was a bed and a curtain halfway pulled along. There was a medical waste bin near the bottom of the bed, underneath a sink and mirror. Dean caught his reflection in the mirror and hesitated - he looked washed out but he could attribute that to how much he'd been working lately. As he looked back around he noticed a stool in front of the medical waste bin and it was damp, as if it had recently been wiped clean.

“Have a seat,” she said and gestured to the chair at the side of the desk, with its back to the bed and curtain.

“Thanks,” he said and made for it, allowing her to shut the door behind him and then she walked to sit in front of the desk and computer.

“I’m Jill,” she said as she settled in the chair and looked at him perched on the edge of his. “Just before we start,” she put her hand on her chest, “I am a beta however, if you’d rather have a male or an omega do this examination we can arrange that. Unfortunately it might be an hour or so until my colleague has an opening but it’s completely up to you, we could even do another day.”

“Uh, no,” Dean said. “It’s okay, I have to get back to work and today is all I got.”

“Okay, if you’re sure?” she asked and he nodded again. “What do you do, out of interest?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” Dean said, rubbing his hands together.

She looked surprised as she turned to the computer. “Wow, exciting!”

“Yeah,” Dean said with a wry chuckle. “I have to high-tail it out of here after someone so.” He tilted his head, knowing that was a lie.

“Let me just find you here, Dean.” She moved the mouse around and clicked on various things as Dean looked around the room again. “Is it January the twenty-fourth seventy-nine?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, whipping his head back to look at her.

“Brilliant.” She turned to him as she stood up and moved to the bed. “If you could just strip the bottom half,” she reached across and pushed the curtain back as she spoke to him, his top half twisted to look at her, “put the paper towel over your lap,” she pulled a strip of paper from the holder at the top of the bed to the feet and then dumped more towel from a different roll on top of it – Dean didn’t see where she pulled it from – then kept talking, “just to maintain your dignity, and we’ll go from there?”

“Yeah,” Dean said and stood up, taking his jacket off where he was and then dumping it on the back of his chair.

She stood with her hand on the curtain until he stepped over the threshold and then pulled it all the way down but not around the bottom so that Dean could see the blank wall as he unfastened his pants. Along it were cabinets with stickers on each door - their positions on the door corresponded with their positions inside the cupboards. He heard the click of the chair as it took her weight again.

He slipped his shoes off as she began typing.

“It’s unusual for an omega to be a bounty hunter,” she said.

Dean rolled his eyes as he pushed his pants down revealing that he wasn’t wearing underwear. “Yeah, it’s sorta the family business,” he said.

“Sounds interesting,” she replied.

“That’s one way to describe it,” Dean said, putting his pants on a chair next to the bed.

“Have you had one of these before, Dean?”

“No, but I have had an internal about a year ago,” he said and checked a spot on his thigh.

“Can I ask what that was for?” she asked.

“Uh, I stopped taking heat suppressors,” Dean picked up the paper towel and opened it out, “so the doctor wanted to check me out after my first heat.”

He heard more typing. “How long were you on the suppressors?”

Dean sat down on the bed. “Six years.” He turned himself and heard the paper under him rip.

There was silence and Dean knew why she'd stopped typing: there was only one reason omegas suppressed for that long – rape.

“Alright,” she said as Dean draped the paper towel over his pelvic area and looked behind him; the bed was lying flat so he just sat there. “Are you covered?”

“Yeah,” Dean said and she pulled the curtain back and stepped inside, pulling it over again. “Any time you want me to stop you just let me know,” she said and busied herself moving the instruments and stool into place before going to the sink and washing her hands.

“Yeah,” Dean said, used to hearing that by now, she pulled gloves from a box on the counter and began to put them on.

He knew he had to mention it and it was now or never so he took an inhale and decided to spit it out. “A couple of months ago I had a miscarriage,” he said and she walked towards him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said and he could see her internally linking his assumed rape and the miscarriage.

He didn’t want her sympathy so he ignored it, even if he appreciated it. “The hospital told me it’d be on the file but to mention it, especially at this, in case I’m still sensitive.”

“Don’t worry,” she said and swept her hand. “We’ll take it slow and easy. Lie back for me, Dean.”

He looked behind him and tried to judge the bulge of the built in pillow lump as he leaned back, straightening his legs as he did so aware that she was preparing to sit down at the end of the bed. The paper ripped under him and he lifted his hips to try and fix it and then settled, staring at the ceiling; the panels were becoming a familiar sight.

“We’ll use plenty of lubricant and it shouldn’t hurt,” she said as she fixed the towel for him as he settled.

“Lubrication?” he asked, Lisa had never mentioned that.

“Lubrication, to allow me to insert the speculum,” she replied and then put her hand on his right leg briefly. “Bend your knees up for me.”

“’Kay,” he said as he did so, remembering those months ago he automatically let his heels touch his buttocks.

“Pull your feet right back, touching your buttocks and,” she touched his knee, “let your knees fall apart for me.” He did so. “Perfect. Are you on any medication right now?”

“Xanax, three times a day,” Dean replied and tried to figure out where to put his arms. He knew that all he was doing was giving her more reason to think he’d been attacked.

“Great,” she said and put her hand on his arm. “Try to relax, I know it’s not pleasant but it won’t hurt unless you tense.”

Dean bit back the _that’s what Al said_ remark which was a rehash of the old human phrase implying a female had a certain kind of appetite, however this version put the alpha in that role.

“When was your last period, darling?” she asked as she stood at the bottom of the bed and Dean shifted, his initial instinct was to close his legs and cover up but he tried to ignore it, it would just make it last longer.

“Last week but it lasted two days,” he said and looked to his left at the wall, wishing this was over.

He sensed her sit down and rip a packet, lubricant he assumed but closed his eyes and waited for the pain.

“Let your knees fall apart, Dean,” she said and he did so, not even aware he’d raised them. “Last one, do you have a partner – an alpha – and/or are you sexually active?” She then interrupted him before he could answer to say, “Relax, I’m going to insert the speculum.”

Dean immediately tensed when he felt hard, cold plastic at his opening, so he forced himself to exhale while the pain settled on his chest as he said, “No.” The speculum eased in with a little sting at the beginning which faded. “There’s no one.”

>><< 

Sam leaned against the passenger-side of the car, his hands in his pockets, looking along the road as a car revved its engine and sped off from a stop light with too much wheel-spin. His brow was tense as he squinted to see in the sunlight then looked to the ground and let his muscles relax.

He heard steps and looked up to see Dean as he walked towards him while he fixed his jacket.

“How’d it go?” Sam asked when he got within earshot.

“Fine,” Dean said curtly and Sam lifted from the car as Dean walked around to the driver’s side, turning his front towards the door.

“Was that the result?” Sam asked, putting his hand on the handle.

“It takes a couple of weeks,” Dean said and opened his door to get in.

Sam pulled his door open too and got in, shutting his door a second after Dean closed his. “Was it sore?” he asked timidly.

Dean glanced to him as he turned the engine over. “A bit,” he admitted quietly and the engine roared into life. “Where can we get changed?”

“At the courthouse?” Sam suggested.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Dean asked, knowing that neither of them had had breakfast.

“Didn’t think you’d want to eat,” Sam said with a shrug.

“I don’t really,” Dean admitted. “But I didn’t eat last night or this morning and that-,” he gestured his head to the doctor’s building, “made me a bit queasy, which would be easier to get rid of if I had anything in my stomach.”

Sam was taken back by his openness but just looked ahead then to his right as he said, “Food then.”

Dean nodded and put the car into drive.

 

They got breakfast in a diner near the courthouse; Sam had scrambled eggs and wholemeal toast whereas Dean ordered pancakes and only ate one. Sam tried to talk to him about what was going to happen and when Dean barked at him to shut up he tried to assure him everything would be alright but after the glare he joined Dean in silence. Afterwards they both went into the restroom and surprised the diners by emerging in black suits and white shirts – Dean had a red striped tie while Sam went with grey plaid.

Dean seemed fine if a bit anxious until they stopped on the sidewalk to cross the street to the courthouse. They looked around at the traffic – automobile and pedestrian – which was a mix of average law-abiding Joes, the accused and law officers. Sam looked at the different things printed on their jackets until Dean hit his shoulder to get his attention and began to cross.

He faltered in the middle of the road and Sam walked a few more steps before he glanced back and then turned to see his brother staring down the street towards the people walking passed the cars parked outside the courthouse. He looked like he’d seen a ghost and Sam walked back to him.

“What?” Sam said and looked but couldn’t see anyone he knew. “Is it her?” he asked.

“No,” Dean said, looking at the cream Lincoln parked up, its driver seat empty. “It’s him.”

There were horns being blasted as they approached the pair just standing in the road and Dean looked. He walked quickly to the other side before Sam could ask what he meant.

“Who?” Sam asked as they stopped on the sidewalk.

Dean’s mind was swimming and he put his head down to stop himself trying to pick him out of the people around them. He walked towards the courthouse and inside before Sam could ask more questions, or before he turned and ran in a completely different direction. Of course he'd come. Dean had asked him to and he had agreed so why hadn't he expected him to? Just because Dean had cut him out of his life without explanation did not mean that Cas would stop being the person that Dean had began to value so much.

_Of course he'd come._

Or was Dean going mad? Was this really Cas' car, or was this the name badge all over again. But he'd been right then, hadn't he? There was no Steve.

Immediately inside there were four metal detectors and two conveyor belts on the outsides of all of them, the one on the right was going in, as was the line leading to the two detectors, while the left and the other detectors was for coming out. There was a collection of armed officers going back and forward loudly informing people what they had to put in the trays offered to them while others manned the detectors, waiting for someone to set it off, and even more stalked the lines on the other side urging people to collect their belongings quickly and return the trays. Every so often the officers would return their hands to the gun in their holsters as they watched every person coming in and out. When they turned large prints could be seen on the backs of their shirts – either ‘A’, ‘B or ‘O’ as well as a number so that they could be easily and quickly identified by members of the public, including on the radios on the right sides of their chests. They all had badge numbers on their shoulders but for emergencies this was easier.

Sam, and every other hunter or officer as well as criminal, knew why there was a detector and belt on the way out. Dean hadn’t heard about the time someone had stashed guns in the restroom but he was too in his own head to hear about the corrupt officer who went on the lamb after a mother of four was gunned down on the court steps using the guns he left for brothers well known in the area. They’d been tipped off by their lawyer that she’d be acquitted and they’d prepared for it. Now the courthouse was prepared for a repeat.

Dean and Sam quickly joined the fast moving line on the right to enter the courthouse and swiftly emptied their pockets into trays, being old hands at the process and Sam even nodded recognition to the loud deputy; he was black, medium height and build, as well as bald and had a good memory for faces.

“Who?” Sam asked again but Dean ignored him, looking down the line to estimate how long it’d take. And then he froze.

Dean didn’t hear the woman in front of him telling him to step through the metal detector or his brother trying to get his attention. Sam looked to him and then along the long entryway to see a dark-haired man in a blue suit, white shirt and blue tie looking back. He was also wearing a beige trench coat. Sam knew that coat.

“Sir!” Sam’s friend said as he walked towards him and Sam pressed a lose fist into the bottom of his brother’s back to urge him forward. “Step through the metal detector, please.”

“Sorry,” Dean said and did just that, the man continuing to watch him even as the detector didn’t react. The man nodded to the woman on the other side who stopped Dean and used a hand-held detector paddle to double-check him.

The deputy took a look up and down Sam who used his tray to push Dean’s along and then nodded to him as soon as he caught the woman’s eye again before walking away and resuming his instructions to anyone who could hear him. He’d seen Sam go back and forward and knew he was a bounty hunter but that didn’t mean that he trusted him.

Dean spread his arms and legs trying to look anywhere but at the man staring at him.

Cas hadn’t know what to expect today, after two months of hearing absolutely nothing from Dean at all – all of his calls and texts ignored – he wasn’t sure he’d be welcome at the trial but he’d promised he’d be there and so he was. However, whatever he imagined might happen he never once considered that Sam might be there looking right at Castiel as if he knew everything.

Cas stepped forward as the guard let Dean go and asked Sam to step through the metal detector. Dean moved to collect his stuff, putting his watch on first and collecting his change and cell phone while Sam was also getting the intimate treatment. Cas paused and then decided to go over.

However, at that moment a guard appeared out of a door just down the hall and said, loud and clear, “The State versus Shurley, court four.” He then looked around to make sure everyone heard him and disappeared again.

Cas turned to listen to him and then turned back just as Dean walked passed him as if he wasn’t there, his head down and his pace rushed. Cas turned yet again to watch him practically run away from him, managing to say, “Dean,” in a coarse and hurt voice – making Dean close his eyes in pain – before he was too far away. For some reason his brain didn’t even suggest to his feet to carry him after him and so instead he stood there and watched.

Sam stopped beside him and Cas looked to his left, at the man he’d never met but whose pity for him was clear as day on his face. He smiled tight-lipped and Cas realized that not only did this man know everything about who he was but he knew more than Cas did. He knew Dean had ended this, how he’d done it and, unlike Cas, he knew why. Cas looked back to Dean’s retreating figure and wondered if he should have come. He also wondered, since Sam was here, if he should leave.

Sam opened his mouth to try to offer up something comforting but the man seemed to make a split-second decision, set his jaw and marched off in the same direction as Dean. However, it was clear, from the hurt on his face, that it wasn’t to confront him.

Dean took a left into court four, a few people following him while talking to each other, Cas some steps behind, followed by Chuck and then Sam.

Amara was already sitting with her lawyer at the front on the defence, nodding as he spoke. Chuck stopped in the aisle and noticed Castiel who stopped just inside the door and followed his eye line to see him observing Dean slip into the prosecution side. Chuck watched as Castiel put his head down and then sat on the end of a bench three from the back on the left. He settled, fixed his coat and then leaned forward, putting his head in his hands.

Sam walked passed Chuck, glancing to Castiel and then looked ahead to spot Dean who looked back to see where he’d got to. Sam nodded to him, picked up his pace and looked to the defence side as he walked. As he moved out of the way and Dean made to slowly turn back to his lawyer, he caught sight of Cas in the background pulling at his familiar tie as he looked up and quickly wiped a tear as it rolled down his right cheek.

Dean turned back to his lawyer and looked to his hands as Sam sat next to him.

Chuck watched this and remembered that night in Castiel’s bedroom, he remembered how terrified Dean had seemed of Amara and how he’d clung to Cas’ side. Yet, now, he hadn’t even glanced in her direction and while he didn’t see Cas wipe the tear away he knew that Cas was here for Dean, not _with_ him.

He remembered Amara taunting Cas into submission, teasing him that Dean wasn’t his omega after all. He might not have been Cas’ _then_ but it was obvious he could have been. Not now. Whatever the reason, Amara had fuelled the fire that had clearly devastated something beautiful.

Chuck suddenly decided that he'd had enough.

He exhaled and stormed down the aisle, through the gate at the end before leaning his hands on the table and looked down at his sister. She only looked up when her lawyer did. “I need a word. Now,” Chuck said and then looked to her lawyer.

The court eventually began but not even the judge was expecting Amara’s solicitor to immediately request a short recess. The judge seemed reluctant however, after her lawyer stressed it was important regarding the outcome of the case, she relented.

Dean and Sam looked to each other and began speculating as to what that meant as their lawyer looked just as confused but said nothing. Dean did everything in his power not to look over his shoulder.

“That was cruel,” Sam whispered to him when they decided they’d be better just waiting for Amara to return.

“What?” Dean asked, thinking that he was referring o the choice to allow the recess.

“Ignoring him like that,” Sam said.

Dean's face fell. “Don’t,” he warned and looked forward.

“He looked heartbroken,” Sam said.

“Can I deal with one problem at a time?” Dean hissed at him.

“Sure,” Sam relented and Dean nodded in thanks. “ _Are_ you going to deal with it?”

Dean sighed. “Sam, seriously. We’re in court, man.”

“So is he,” Sam countered and Dean let his head fall into his hands. “He’s here to support you.”

“I know,” Dean whispered.

“And you ignored him,” Sam said.

Dean suddenly turned, moving close to Sam who looked between his eyes as he somehow yelled, “I know!” without raising his volume. His eyes were sharp and red with barely concealed emotion. “I know what I did, Sam, and you pointing it out isn’t helping. In case you haven’t noticed I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“But you weren’t when-.” Sam stopped and looked down.

“Can’t say it either, can you?” Dean said softly. “Now imagine trying to tell _him_.” Dean looked forward. “I’m not trying to be cruel.” He swallowed. “I’m just not strong enough.”

The lawyer was looking between them trying to pretend he couldn’t hear what they were saying but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“You are,” Sam said, his face slightly bowed but his eyes on his brother.

“Sam!” Dean yelled and the court dropped to silence.

The brothers looked around awkwardly as heads lifted and turned in their direction and the echo died. Sam's eyes caught Cas', his brow dipped in worry and his own humiliation replaced by hurt that he couldn't be closer to support them.

Dean faced forward when his eyes felt hot with emotion. “Stop it, Sam.”

Sam heard the pain. “Okay,” he said.

“Please,” Dean repeated, his jaw tight.

Sam put his hand on Dean’s arm. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said and Dean nodded once. “I’ll stop.”

Dean nodded again and Sam’s hand dropped.

Sam let his head hang and Dean took the moment to look behind him to see Cas staring ahead as if lost in thought. His face was a kind of sad Dean wasn’t sure he’d seen on anyone besides Charlie every time Billie’s tests came back negative; it was loss and a lack of understanding.

Dean looked ahead wishing he could explain, wishing he could bring himself to stand there and watch that man hate him. But he closed his eyes and thought that maybe he already did.

 

Meanwhile, Amara and Chuck were ushered to an unused interview room by her lawyer.

She walked passed the table and turned, her dress sweeping around with her, to look at her brother with folded arms. “What is so important?” she asked, exasperated.

“Plead guilty,” Chuck demanded, staring at her. His voice was shaky and unsure, as if he'd never demanded anything in his life before now.

She scoffed with a chuckle, her smile widened to show her teeth. “What?” she asked.

“I have taken all I can take,” he wiped his hands in the air as he said it. “I can’t count how many times you’ve strode into someone’s life and ruined it.” Her smile fell as she focused on him. “How many times you’ve broken up beautiful relationships, reduced perfect souls to rubble.”

“Can’t have been very secure if I was able to-.”

Her lawyer was shocked when Chuck spoke over her, “It’s partly my fault.”

“Is it?” she asked.

“Yes, because I stood there and let it happen, I listened to you when you tried to talk your way out of any fault.” He gestured to her, indicating the sentence he’d interrupted. “I convinced myself that it was nothing to do with me therefore I was absolved of guilt. But this time I didn’t metaphorically stand there I _actually_ stood there and let it happen. Castiel might have won-.”

Her face changed to anger. “He did not!” she yelled.

Her lawyer shuffled on his feet and looked to the door, wondering when a court official would burst through it, demanding they get back before the judge.

“No, you’re right!” Chuck yelled back and she stared at him. “He fought you off that day but he definitely didn’t win because you’ve done it again.”

“What does that mean?” Amara asked.

“We don’t have time-,” Amara’s lawyer said, hearing footsteps before there was a sharp knock at the door and a guard opened it slightly, looking around at the people inside. “We’re coming.”

“Judge is back,” the guard said to him, stressing that they did not have time to mess around.

“Yeah, we’re coming,” he said and the guard closed the door. “We can’t keep the judge waiting-.”

“What do you mean?” Amara repeated and the lawyer rolled his eyes.

“You’ve torn them apart,” Chuck said soft but angry.

She slowly smiled. “Really?”

Chuck slowly shook his head. “You’re _disgusting_ ,” he whispered and her smile fell.

“Please-,” her lawyer repeated.

“I’m your sister!” she snapped.

“No!” Chuck snapped back.

There was a pause before Amara raised her brow. “No?” she repeated.

“No,” Chuck confirmed. “You go out there and admit what you’ve done, _really_ take the blame, or you lose me. Forever.”

He stared at her and her eyes narrowed, trying to decide if he was serious, and then he turned, opened the door – all while staring at her – then stormed from the room.

 

In the concourse Sam looked at Dean who was sitting on a chair at the side of the corridor as people walked back and forth passed those who had decided to leave court four while they waited. He had his head bowed forward and his eyes closed while his hands rested on the top of his head.

Sam had watched Cas as they’d gone passed, Dean practically ran away and Cas watched him before closing his eyes as if he’d messed up and looking to the left as he stood up to leave the court. When Dean took a seat Sam watched Castiel put his head down as he raced to the restroom, his face a mixture of completely white and red.

Sam looked to Dean exhale and look up and shook his head as he looked down the corridor.

“What?” Dean asked and looked to where his brother was.

“I can’t believe you haven’t told him,” Sam said, his jaw tight.

“Sam,” Dean said in warning as he looked to his right.

Sam sat next to him. “He thinks you hate him,” he said.

“How would you know?” Dean snapped.

“It’s all over his face!” Sam said and gestured his right hand in the direction of the restroom.

“I asked you to let me deal with one thing at a time,” Dean said.

“But _will_ you deal with this?”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake!” Dean yelled and everything went silent, Sam’s brow dipped as he looked at his brother, wondering where that came from.

Cas, in the restroom, looked up from where he was leaning against the sink and at the door in the mirror. There were tears rolling down his cheeks and the sounds of someone unfastening their belt in the stalls.

“I’m gonna pee,” Dean said and stood up.

“He’s in there,” Sam said and Dean stopped, looking down at his brother who looked away. “S’not fair to send you in there without warning, however much I want to.”

A guard yelled for them to come back in and Dean watched Sam stand up then glanced to the restroom as the door opened. Cas met his eye right away then, to Dean’s dismay, looked down and walked passed him towards the court.

Dean looked to Sam who raised his eyebrows pointedly and then they walked back towards court four.

When they re-entered the room Sam found himself ahead of Dean and therefore shuffled along to allow Dean to sit between him and his lawyer, Dean looked back to where Cas had been sitting before as he squeezed his way passed his lawyer’s chair. Sam watched him, thinking it was ironic that he barely noticed Amara’s presence, she was faced forward while her lawyer leaned towards her and spoke eagerly.

The door was closed behind Chuck who’d been unsure if he wanted to witness this or not. In the end he sat behind his sister who stiffened, turning her head slightly to the left but then looked ahead again, all the while ignoring her lawyer.

The judge was announced and everyone stood, Dean again looked behind him to see Cas looking down at his feet. They all then sat down again and waited for her to settle.

“Consel, can I be reassured that we’ll have no more surprises?” She looked to Amara’s lawyer.

“You can, your honor,” he said but didn’t look happy about it.

“Okay then, your client stands accused of theft of a firearm, violation of the MAPHO act of 1976, stalking in contravention to the O'Riley legislation of 1994 and intimidation of an omega in contravention to the Farooqi Act of 2007.” Cas looked to where Sam was sitting and couldn’t help but feel that that’s where he should be, he also wondered if Dean had explained the charges to Sam and, thinking back, he decided they must have indeed straightened out the misunderstandings that had upset Dean so much. “Please be aware, Miss Shurley, that violation of MAPHO has only been filed by the state of Kansas at the moment, Missouri may wish to pursue the same charge and perhaps more, in accordance with their laws at a later date. These proceedings will be dealing with the state of Kansas charges only." Amara nodded quickly. "Does your client understand this?" she asked anyway, for the record.

"She does, your honor," Amara's lawyer replied, glancing to his client.

"Does she wish to enter a plea at this time? Bear in mind that your client can enter at a later date but once a plea _has_ been entered, while it can be changed or withdrawn, it cannot be stricken from the record and may count against your client if this goes to trial.”

“It’s okay if she doesn’t-,” Dean’s lawyer began explaining.

Amara’s lawyer looked to Amara who didn’t even meet his eye before nodding once.

“Yes, she does, your honor,” the lawyer said and Dean and his lawyer looked to their left. Castiel and Chuck also turned their attention to Amara.

“Is this a collective plea or does your client wish to plead separately on each charge?” the judge asked.

“Collective,” Amara said.

“Collective plea, your honor,” the lawyer repeated.

“Alright. Miss Shurley, how do you wish to plead?” she asked.

There was a tense silence in the court.

Her lawyer cleared his throat. “Against my advice, judge, my client wishes to enter a collective plea of guilty.”

Chuck sat up in his chair while Sam looked at his brother who wasn’t listening to anything his lawyer was now jabbering in his ear. Dean looked at the table in front of him realising that he wouldn’t have to testify about the events that led to this day and neither would Cas. He turned and looked behind him to where Cas had his eyes closed and was muttering under his breath with his hands clasped together; it took Dean a second to realize he was praying or thanking God, he wasn’t sure. He looked forward just as Cas signed the cross.

There wasn’t enough people in the court for there to be a din that the judge had to hush before she could speak but she did wait a few seconds for the prosecution’s lawyer to reassure his client and then she shifted in her seat.

“Okay, we will reconvene for sentencing on August seventeenth and 10am. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Dean’s lawyer said quickly before returning to Dean and Sam as they stood.

“Thank you,” Amara’s lawyer said flatly as he stood next to his client.

“What happens now?” Sam asked while they stood there and Dean turned his head to look at Cas who was gathering his briefcase and wondering if he should make a break for it or wait when Amara turned to look at her brother but caught Cas’ eye instead. He looked away in disgust.

She looked from Castiel to Dean who looked was looking at Castiel but then looked down before he could be caught.

Chuck leaned forward, noticing her looking around. “See where they’re sitting?” he asked.

“Yes, I see,” she said and he raised his eyebrows. “I pled guilty, what more do you want, brother?” She gestured to him. “I did as you asked.”

He looked at her and knew that she could see the consequences of her actions but wondered if she’d ever acknowledge her part. “Did you?” he asked and walked out of the row then out of the court, in front of Sam and Dean who shook hands with their lawyer who rushed off, leaving them to slowly make their way out.

As they left Dean noticed that Cas’ seat was empty and he looked ahead to the approaching concourse and couldn’t see him.

“Well, that’s that,” Sam said. "Until August."

“Yeah,” Dean said with an exhale. “I did not expect that.”

“You gonna deal with that now?” he asked and gestured his head toward the open doorway that lead onto the street to the metal detectors where Castiel was picking up his briefcase from a tray and making a hasty exit.

“There’s nothing to deal with,” Dean said as they put their things in a tray and joined the fast moving exit line. Dean went through the metal detector, emptied his tray and made a beeline for the door, making Sam have to jog to catch him up.

He saw his brother practically run across the street, looking to his left at the cream car pulling out of the space and disappearing around a corner.

He caught him up at the car. “You owe him-.”

“I owe him nothing!” Dean spat across the top of the car and then yanked his door open and got in.

Sam exhaled angrily and got in beside him, both slamming their doors at the same time. “Do you actually hate him? Because it seems like it.”

“No,” Dean said and turned the engine over.

“So, how can you say that you don’t owe him-?”

“He should have used something,” Dean said and pulled the car out of its space, going in the opposite direction of where Cas had gone.

“And you had no say in that?” Sam asked. “You’re angry at yourself for not having the _stones_ ,” Dean glanced to him, “to deal with this, don’t transfer it to him.”

Dean stopped at a light. “Just shut up, right now, or walk,” he said.

“Fine,” Sam replied and when Dean expected silence he got Sam getting out of the car and walking off down the road.

Dean immediately groaned through gritted teeth, his eyes watered, and he slapped the steering wheel in anger before driving off in response to the green light.

 

Dean didn’t immediately go home, he went straight to work, as did Sam and Chuck, while Amara posted bail and went to lunch alone. However, Cas  _did_ go home where he did something that he hadn’t done since he’d slammed Samandriel against the elevator wall; he sat against a shelf unit in his basement – in just pants and an untucked t-shirt – with a glass three-quarters full of clear liquid and stared at his washer. He watched it vibrate where it stood, the sips he was taking from his glass turning into gulps and occasionally refilling it from a litre bottle of vodka sat on the floor next to him and his shoes. The shelving unit was the same one that he'd thrown to the floor in a fir or rage however now it was neatly stacked again and bolted to the floor.

When the machine was finished he stared at it until his glass was empty then got up, put the exact same wash on and sat back down where he had been. It started up again and he refilled his glass, spilling some drops on the concrete floor.

He continued that routine for hours; the sky outside was dark, the clothes were cleaner than they’d ever been and a little worse for wear due to the repeated action. The bottle on the floor was half-empty and he almost knocked it over as he scrambled to his feet and stumbled over to the machine. He opened the door and wondered what would happen if he poured vodka in there but then decided he didn’t want to waste it so he restarted the wash and swayed his way back to where he’d been sitting.

He picked the bottle up before he plonked himself down on the hard floor and poured himself another drink. He let his weight lean back against the shelf, the contents rattled but it stayed fast. He lifted the glass and thought back to when he was a child in the home; he’d watched kids come in and then either be fostered or adopted, most of them not coming back. But not him. He recognised some of the emotions from then in himself now; he felt that he wasn’t worth enough, that he was still sitting with an asterisk above his head, like Dean had found another ‘yet’ to pin on him, to hold against him.

He stewed on this for another few spins and glasses until it dawned on him that it actually felt worse than that: it didn’t feel like he’d been passed by, it felt like he’d been returned. Again.

He was hoping that the vodka would numb the pain; it was as if Dean had wanted to see his soul and he’d been foolish enough to let him. He’d been so ready to lead him into every cavern, swim with him in every lagoon, hike with him to every peak, trek with him across every inch, discover every dark crevice that he’d been avoiding for God knows how long. Then Dean had turned his back and walked away, leaving it open, unexplored and vulnerable.

Cas sat, not watching the machine shake anymore, because now he was thinking about Dean, about everything he’d learned about him – whether it was whispered in the night or screamed during the day – everything Dean had let him explore and discover. He slowly and shamefully realised that he’d been unfair: he wasn’t the only one who’d bared his soul.

And, really, didn’t he know that this is how this would end from the beginning? He had to have known that Dean would tear him apart in the end. He had known, on some level, and it hadn’t mattered. As he’d gotten to know Dean better it had only confirmed it and it still hadn’t mattered.

Dean was who he was and Cas had constantly tried to make him see that who he was was perfect. So, why was he angry at him for being himself now?

The machine was finished so he downed the glass and left it on the floor with the three-quarters empty bottle and his shoes. He stood, grabbing the shelf as he swayed, it stayed still but he felt as if it had swayed with him and he tried to balance himself, stopping dead with his feet apart. The shelf stopped wobbling and so did he. He exhaled and let it go before he stumbled towards the machine where he spent nearly half a minute trying to open the door while feeling like he was the one spinning now.

It took him quite a bit longer than it should have but – between leaning down, swaying and deciding to come down onto his knees and then falling onto his ass – he loaded his thoroughly washed clothes and sheets into the dryer and turned it on. He subsequently found that he couldn’t get himself up off of the floor again so he crawled, with a wobble, to the bottom of the basement steps and then proceeded to climb them on his knees. With each step it dawned on him more and more that he’d never see or hold Dean ever again. He wished he’d known before he’d let Dean leave him that morning because he knew he never would have stopped kissing him.

He stopped halfway to the top of the steps and sobbed into his left shirt sleeve. It was messy and childish, the kind of which only Gabriel had ever seen.

>><< 

Dean was lying on his bed with his eyes closed, his top half propped up on pillows and headphones in, trying to black out any thoughts when Sam stopped outside his room and knocked. Dean’s music prevented him from hearing this so Sam got no answer. Sam wasn’t sure if this was Dean ignoring him or if he was asleep but he punched in the passcode and pushed the door inward anyway. He stuck his head in and immediately his attention was drawn by Dean’s figure on the bed.

Dean sensed a presence so he opened his eyes and then sighed in irritation as Sam stepped into the room and closed the door. He pulled his headphones off and put his cell phone – which had been resting on his left thigh – on the nightstand.

“What?” he demanded.

“Nice,” Sam replied to him, sarcastically.

Dean exhaled. “Sorry,” he said, trying to drop the defensiveness. “What’s up?”

“Are you going to call him?”

Dean tensed. “Sam-,” he warned, aggressively.

“No, Sam, nothing.” Sam said and swiped his hand in the air. “I’m not going to pretend I understand any of what happened and I know that that’s not just because you haven’t told me everything. I know there will be aspects of your life I will _never_ understand. Because I’m a beta, because I’m your younger brother-. Whatever the reasons, I get it. But whatever it is there is no excuse for being cruel, Dean, not to someone you clearly care about and who cares about you. You’re no angel, Dean, everyone knows that, and you’re many things-.”

“Thanks,” Dean muttered.

“But you’re not cruel, Dean,” Sam said. “You’ve never been cruel. That’s not who you-.”

That was when Dean’s cell started to vibrate on the nightstand. Dean picked it up and looked at the caller ID. Sam had never seen that kind of pain on his brother’s face before and he didn’t need to guess who it was.

Cas had cried until he couldn’t anymore and then dragged himself up the remainder of the steps into the main area of his house. He’d then started to think about the Dean he knew and how he must be feeling at that moment. He had to know, to some extent, what this would do to Cas and he had to be punishing himself. Just liked he still punished himself over what happened to his father, over the childhood Sam never had, over what happened to Aaron, over what Sam had been through and was still going through now. Cas knew in his soul that getting over Dean would be the hardest thing that he’d ever have to do – besides bury his parents – but he knew that he’d do it somehow. What else was he supposed to do?

He wasn’t sure that Dean would ever forgive himself for how this happened, however he knew that he was the only one who might have the power to help him start to do that.

That is why, after giving up on Dean contacting him, he was sitting on his couch calling Dean who was staring at his phone screen completely frozen.

Sam walked towards him. “You’re not going to answer?” he asked and Dean could hear the disappointment.

Dean just shook his head.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“And say what, Sam?” He snapped softly. “Hey, sorry I haven’t got back to you. What’s been happening with you? Me? Well, I lost our baby,” Sam looked down, “and I can’t bring myself to tell you.” The cell stopped ringing and Sam looked up to Dean looking at the screen. “I can’t bring myself to hear your voice or look at your face-.” His voice cracked and he stopped as Sam watched him put the cell phone down on the night stand.

“Dean, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Then whose, Sam?” He shrugged. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He jogs, eats rabbit food, drinks enough water and doesn’t work with radiation. I’m the one who put that crap in my body. Not just these-.” He picked up the bottle of pills on the nightstand, shook them and put them back down.

“What are those?” Sam asked.

“What do you think?” Dean said quietly and Sam’s entire body relaxed and he felt crestfallen as it clicked in his head that Dean was back on the suppressors. “Between these, the burgers, the scotch, the Xanax-. Everything.”

“You’re on Xanax?” Sam asked. “Since when?” He turned and sat on the side of Dean’s bed.

Dean hesitated. “Since Benny was released early,” Dean said, playing with the headphones in his lap.

“He what?!” Sam exclaimed. “Jesus, Dean. What else have you kept from me?” Dean didn’t answer. “Cas, Amara, Benny, Xanax, the second gun-. What else?”

“I started using a new shampoo!” Dean yelled.

Sam laughed half-heartedly. “Dean-.” He stopped, not sure what else to say.

There was a silence between them. “I-, I didn’t mean to keep it all from you,” Dean interrupted. “Except Cas.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me?”

Dean didn’t answer and Sam didn’t ask again.

Then there was a buzz as Dean’s cell vibrated on the nightstand and they both looked.

“He left a voicemail,” Sam stated. “You should listen to it.”

Dean looked away. “I could have told you about Cas, I just didn’t want to. I wanted to keep him to myself. I don’t know why, I just-, I wanted something that was just mine. Does that makes sense at all?”

Sam considered it and then nodded. “I can understand it. But you should listen to the voicemail.”

“Drop it, Sam,” Dean said quietly, without anger, and Sam looked as his brother’s red and wet eyes lifted to look into his. Dean’s eyes tightened, as did his brow, in pain as he said, “You’re killing me.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re killing yourself, Dean.” He stood up and left Dean to put his headphones back on and cry, neither of them knowing that, across town, Cas was doing the same thing.

As Sam left the room and walked along the corridor he saw Eileen standing in a towel with her wet hair hanging around her shoulders while she and Ash signed to each other. Sam walked towards them and Ash took a few steps back, still signing, she nodded, signed back and they turned away from each other. Eileen walked right into Sam who put his hands to her arms to catch her.

“Sorry!” Sam said and repeated it with a smile and a laugh when she looked at him.

She smiled too. “Creeping up on a deaf woman? You’re a freak.”

Sam laughed and moved away from her as she fixed her towel. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he ignored it.

“Are you sticking around tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “The last time I went out in a towel-dress people spoke behind my back.”

Sam smiled wider. “How would you know?”

She smiled too, lips tight, and pushed him, making him tense. “You’re going to buy me a drink for that,” she said.

Sam swallowed. “How about a milkshake?”

She shrugged. “I guess that’ll do. Let me get dressed.”

“Yeah,” Sam said and she began to turn. “Meet you at-.” He stopped and reached out to take her left hand which made her stop and look to him. “I’ll meet you at my car?” he asked and she nodded, smiling. “Great,” Sam said and dropped his hand from hers to let her walk away.

Just behind Sam Garth was walking towards them, almost unseen in the shadows. “Oooh!” he said and Sam turned to look at him. “Sam’s got a girlfriend.”

Sam laughed and then his brow dipped as he looked at Garth: he was unnaturally white, his hair long and shabby, his face unshaven and he had scratches all over him.

“What happened to you?” Sam asked. “Where have you been, man, I haven’t seen you going in and out?”

Garth pointed to him as he changed direction and walked backwards towards the sleepers. “Don’t change the subject.” He then turned and disappeared.

Sam had the distinct impression that he wasn’t the one changing the subject.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam as been trying to get Dean to face up to things but instead his brother has been throwing himself into his work. However, the worlds he's been trying to keep apart are about to violently collide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, so much has been happening! Hope this makes up for it. Thanks for sticking with this one! There's a lot more to come, it might come slightly slower but it will come at some point!

The following week Castiel had been awake since two in the morning and was currently on his third cup of coffee which he was sipping from a thermal travel mug as he strode down the corridor towards his office.

Becky walked towards him in a black pencil skirt, cream ruffle shirt and heels. There was colour in her cheeks and her smile reached her eyes. It would have occurred to Cas that he’d never seen her looking so happy if it weren’t for his pounding headache.

She regarded his pale face, hair that was just out of place and crooked tie. “Late night?” He shook his head, letting coffee sit in his mouth before he swallowed it and walked passed her. “Early morning?” she guessed as she followed him and he nodded as he felt the warm liquid slide down his throat. “Ten minutes?” She briefly thought about taking his coat but his grip on his mug was turning the surrounding skin yellow so she dismissed it.

He nodded again and they separated at her desk; she waked off down the corridor while he opened the door to his office, stepped in and closed the door behind him. He put his briefcase and mug down on his desk then turned to take his coat off and hung it up. He then let his suit jacket slip from his arms and used both hands to put it up, both of them coming down a little heavy on it as he did so.

He picked up his cup, knocked it back to finish it as he opened his office door again and rested it on Becky’s clean and tidy desk. He groaned when he saw the ‘in’ tray was almost overflowing and turned back inside, closing the door with the vain hope that it would stay that way.

He stretched, cracking his back, and then opened his briefcase before retrieving two A4 beige envelopes full of paper and dumped them on his desk. He was so exhausted that while he leaned over the side of his desk to rest the briefcase on the floor he didn’t even register the muffled sound of Becky’s footsteps come towards the door.

She saw the mug on her desk picked it up with a mind to go back to the kitchen and fill it from the coffee machine she'd just turned on. Just as she was turning she saw Chuck approaching her.

“Hey!” she said, her smile widening.

“Hey you,” he said as he stopped in front of her, smiling back at her. “You look great.”

“You said that this morning,” she replied, looking to her desk with a tinge of bashfulness.

“And I stand by it,” he said, his eyes taking in her face. “I wish I could stop,” he said and gestured to Cas’ office, “I need to see Castiel.” He took a step forward.

She put her right hand on his chest. “I wouldn’t,” she said.

“Why not?” he asked. “I know it’s early but isn’t he in yet?”

“Yeah he’s in,” she said and Chuck raised his eyebrows. “It’s a ten minute kind of day.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

She paused and worried her lip as if answering the question would be revealing one of her boss' personal secrets. Eventually she sighed in defeat. “Sometimes he just needs ten minutes to come to terms with the day. It’s just stress and lack of sleep and everything.”

Chuck’s face suddenly became tight with worry. “Is he really that stressed?” She shrugged but Chuck knew that it wasn’t because she didn’t know the answer she just didn’t want to say it. “Even with Harry? I don’t know what else to do for him-.”

She put her hand up. “Hey, you’re a great boss. Mr Novak can handle it, he just pushes himself too hard anyway and then with everything that’s happening here and-,” She stopped breathing thinking that would stop her saying any more.

“What?” Chuck asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said but Chuck resettled on his feet to look at her. “I just get the feeling that there’s something going on. A personal something.” Chuck nodded, thinking back to the court room. “Anyway, just give him an hour, time to settle in, maybe start to feel like he’s making headway before you come in and ruffle him.”

Chuck smiled a little. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’m not that much of a ruffler, am I?”

She smiled. “Maybe. You _are_ the boss,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah, no one’s ever happy to see me.”

“Not no one,” she said and smiled wider when he looked to her.

He smiled too and took a step back, pointing up and down her. “You know what really makes that outfit?”

“What?” she asked.

“That smile,” he said, winked and walked away.

Becky smiled to herself then waited a beat before she walked away, in the opposite direction, to the coffee machine. She did take a look over her shoulder to see Chuck talking to a young intern before she had to dart to pick up her phone – Harry nowhere to be seen yet – and take down a message.

The day had begun, whether Castiel was ready for it or not.

>><< 

Charlie walked into the main room of the bunker where a few people were sitting around the table everyone used for research. She dropped her bag down hard on the surface.

“Hey, _that_ is mahogany!” Dean exclaimed.

“I hate everyone!” she shot back, making Dean straighten up in surprise and Sam’s brow lift in amusement.

“What’s wrong?” Ash asked, looking up from his computer.

“Billie was supposed to go into heat last week and she hasn’t-.”

Everyone at the table – Dean, Sam, Ash and Hannah – sat forward while another hunter turned from the book shelf.

“Is she?” Hannah asked when no one else could bring themselves to.

Charlie exhaled. “No,” she said, letting her shoulders fall with the word. Everyone’s bodies sank back disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Hannah agreed.

“Me too,” Ash added.

All Dean could see was blood on his mattress and Sam looked to him.

“I just want to shoot something,” Charlie announced. “Anything!”

“Whoa,” Ash said, while Hannah looked at Sam and then Dean, all of them knowing that Charlie was the last person to pull a gun. She expected to exchange a surprised glance with Sam or his brother but she saw that something else was going through their heads so she looked back to Charlie.

“I know!” Charlie snapped and leaned her hands on the table, having to bend at her waist and knees a little to do so. “But I need to work or I’ll go insane so someone come with me on a job. Keep me in check?” She looked around at them all.

“I’m chasing six people,” Ash said, gesturing to the screen.

“I’m just waiting for a call to go out,” Hannah said with an apologetic smile.

“I’ll go,” Dean said, suddenly forcing himself out of his own thoughts.

“Really?” Charlie asked.

“I thought you had three jobs?” Ash asked.

“I did,” Dean replied.

“You’ve chased three jobs today?” Sam asked, looking at his watch. “It’s ten in the morning.”

“Four jobs,” Dean said, Hannah’s eyebrows raised, Ash went back to his screen and the other hunter went back to his research, taking a chair at the other end. “Couldn’t sleep, caught a drunk in a bar by his apartment, second in bed, third arriving at work and the fourth at a traffic light.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

Dean felt irritation in his jaw, he could hear the pity in Sam’s voice. “M’fine,” he said without even looking at him as he got to his feet. “Wanna take my car?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said and straightened up, picking her go-bag up from the mahogany table.

They nearly collided while saying their goodbyes as Charlie made to walk towards the garage and Dean made to go for the front door.

“It’s outside,” Dean said as they stepped back from each other.

“I didn’t see it,” Charlie said and they headed towards the staircase.

“Had to park behind that HGV,” he explained and lead the way up the stairs.

“Oh yeah, I saw that,” she said.

Sam watched them go, worry on his brow, but he felt eyes on him and turned to see Hannah looking at him so he smiled and looked back to his book.

 

Dean and Charlie went out of the heavy door, walked down to Dean’s _Chevy_ and Charlie put her back in the trunk, pulling a file from it before she closed the lid. Dean got in the driver’s seat and Charlie in the passenger side.

“We in-state?” he asked as they pulled their seatbelts across.

“Yeah, yeah. Try his home address.” She found it in the file and showed it to him.

“Alright,” Dean said and turned the engine over before pulling the car out.

She kept the file open so that Dean could see who they were looking for if he needed to be reminded.

"Am I wrong," Dean said, pausing as they changed lanes, "or isn't that place kinda fancy?"

“Accountant,” she stated.

“What’d he do?” Dean asked.

“Embezzlement,” she answered. “Over a long period of time.”

“Why’d he get bail?”

“He has a baby girl, sole carer, not considered a flight risk,” she said, reading from the sheet. "But he didn't turn up for his hearing so." She shrugged.

Dean nodded and glanced to her. “How is Billie?”

Charlie pushed her lips out a little and nodded. “She’s off work.”

Dean nodded. “I would be too if I was an undertaker. To be trying to create life and be surrounded by death.” He shook his head. “That has to be bad mojo.”

Charlie closed her eyes. “She said that when she’s preparing the bodies all she can think about is that person’s place in their family. Especially parents and children.”

“I’m sorry, Chaz. She must feel like she failed you, even though she can’t control it she must be questioning herself. You know, what could I have done to make this end differently?” Charlie looked to him. “What did I do wrong?” he said and his voice was so soft that Charlie felt like there was real hurt there. He swallowed and looked to his left, away from her, as he tried to blink away the tears that were filling his eyes.

“I wish that I could make her see that I feel just as much to blame-.”

“You can’t,” Dean interrupted with a shake of his head. “You can’t understand-. You can never be equally to blame when it’s not inside you. It’s literally inside her, or it’s not. I mean, I know it’s come from you too, but it’s our responsibility to keep it safe and healthy and if we can’t do that, what can we do? We can’t _do_ anything to fix it either.”

“But neither can we,” Charlie argued. “I stand there, watching her in pain and all I can do is hold her-,” Charlie started crying. “Assure her it’ll be okay when I don’t have a clue if that’s true or not. But I’m trying to tell her that I’ll always be there, that she won’t be going through it alone, that it’s my loss too, that I love her.” She shook her head. “I love her _so_ much, Dean, and she’s hurting.” She took a sharp inhale. “I can’t do anything to make it stop.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that, Chaz,” Dean said, wondering if Cas would have felt any of that.

“She won’t let me, that’s the worst thing. She won’t let me be there for her, assure her, share the pain.”

“She’s trying to protect you,” Dean said, as if defending his own actions.

“Well, she can’t,” Charlie snapped. “And she’s denying me the chance to do those things, the only things I can do. It’s a kind of grief, Dean, because you create a kid in your head and then you have to say goodbye to it. I feel like she’s denying me the grieving process, or making me go through it on my own.” She stopped crying and wiped her face.

“You’d rather go through it?” Dean asked, glancing between her and the road. “Wouldn’t you rather not know?”

“No,” Charlie said. “She’ll let me in, when she’s ready. I deserve to be allowed to go through the pain, grieve, to get to know each other in our darkest time. And, forget all that, the idea that she’s going through it alone is the worst kind of pain. I don’t want her to go through it alone.”

Dean looked forward as he drove, thinking about what Cas had said when he’d told him about starting his period unexpectedly and he’d told Dean that he only had to call him and he’d be there.

And he’d been there at court, just like he said he would be, despite everything.

 

Back in the bunker Sam walked into the kitchen where Kevin was drinking coffee and reading a paper.

“Hey, man,” Sam said and turned when Kevin picked up his things and left the room without a word. He sighed. “Man,” he muttered to himself.

Kevin had been the call that Sam had ignored when he was arranging to go for a milkshake with Eileen. As it turned out Kevin had been arrested when fighting a bail suspect and when the arresting officer wouldn’t take into account Kevin’s story he’d used his phone-call to reach Sam.

His only phone call.

As a result of his night in the cells - before being rescued by a panicked and sheepish Sam - Kevin was now refusing to say a word to Sam.

 

After striking out at the listed residence of her bail suspect Charlie exhaled as she and Dean settled back in the car.

Dean looked to her as she opened his file and exhaled angrily, looking for another address. “We good?” he asked after pulling his door closed.

“Yeah,” she replied and tapped the paper before pulling her seatbelt across.

“You sure?” Dean asked.

“Let’s go,” Charlie encouraged and tapped the dash as Dean turned the engine over.

“Where we going?” Dean asked, looking out of his windshield and his eyes darting left and right; he knew that she was on a knife edge but that’s what he was here for, to catch her if she started to go over.

“Massive office building over on Seventh,” Charlie said. "Can't miss it."

“His job, where he stole from?” Dean asked as he pulled out.

“I just want to talk to his old boss, see if he knows where he might be.”

“What about the kid, shouldn’t we try there?” Dean asked.

“Nah, he dropped her off one morning, as usual, never told her about the conviction or being fired, and then never came back or checked in.”

“When was this?”

Charlie looked through the papers she had on her knee and shook her head. “Doesn’t say but he’s not a red ball so it’s fine.”

Dean nodded, somewhat calmed by that; a red ball was an urgent case and usually ended in a gun fight. That was the last thing Charlie needed. The last thing either of them needed.

When they got to the big building Dean looked up at it. It was glass all around where people were sitting in blank offices with blank stares doing blank jobs. As he parked around the corner he wondered if any of these offices had bumblebee posters on their walls.

 

Upstairs, in an office that did have a bumblebee poster on the wall, Castiel was standing behind his desk with a telephone receiver between his left shoulder and ear whilst his left hand rested in a fist against the table top. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbow but had started to come down again, his hair was all over the place from the countless times he’d ran his hands through it and his heart was pumping hard in his chest from the caffeine – Becky had cut him off after his third in the office.

“No,” he said and then waited for the reply, his door was left open but he still felt as if the room was coming in on him. “No!” he insisted and then listened to another garbled answer. “Because I’m looking at the invoice, that’s how I know!” He hit the report in front of him with his free hand then he exhaled as the person on the other end insisted that he did not need to shout. “Listen,” he said a little more calmly, “I have been dealing with this account for just two weeks-,” he stopped, having been interrupted.

He sensed someone looking at him so his eyes moved to his doorway where a figure stood looking at him with an expression that was a mixture of pity and pain.

“Castiel,” Zachariah said.

Castiel knew that Zachariah had been in jail for the embezzlement but if he was out he was either on bail or on the run. Either way Cas knew that this was not going to go well so he looked to the receiver and tried to stay calm as he slowly replaced the telephone. His chest was now thumping for a different reason.

“Zachariah,” Cas said and tried to smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to apologize,” he said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him without looking away from Castiel.

“What for?” Cas asked.

“What for?” he repeated. “Why, for dumping all of this on you,” he said and gestured to the papers on the table.

“You came all the way here to apologize, to me, for embezzling hundreds of thousands of dollars?”

 

Downstairs Charlie and Dean walked in the front door, the revolving part of it seemed to have been removed and automatic doors put in place however the circular area was still there. As soon as they entered the main reception area the air conditioner fans above them were a welcome relief and they exhaled contentedly as they looked to each other.

“I’m gonna check the in-house garage and reception sign-in, you go and meet this boss,” Dean said.

“Okay,” Charlie said and made to walk away but Dean grabbed her arm gently.

“Stay cool,” Dean said. “Don’t make me regret coming here.”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”

“You won’t do her any favours,” Dean said.

“I know,” Charlie said and steamed away towards the reception where she asked for the boss out of Dean’s ear shot.

He looked around the grey walls and then watched her go to the elevator before slowly approaching the receptionist.

“Hi,” she said and looked up to him. “How can I help?”

“Hi,” he said. “I’m an FRA,” he gestured after Charlie, “she’s my partner. Can I look at your sign-in sheets and if you have one for the garage too?”

“I’ll have to check with the boss,” she said and reached for the phone.

“I’ll wait here,” Dean said and took a few steps away from the desk.

 

Charlie waited for the elevator doors to open and she was met by a man in a tweed jacket and jeans who had just got off of another call with reception.

“Hi, could you tell me where I might find Mr Shurley, please?” she asked as she stepped out of the elevator.

“You found him,” Chuck said.

“Charlie Bradbury,” she said and shook his hand. “My partner is downstairs at reception.”

“Yeah, they just called and asked if he could check sign-in sheets. You really think he would show up here?”

“We’re not sure-,” Charlie was interrupted by a young man who was running towards them and stopping.

“Sir,” he said.

“What is it?” Chuck asked, looking him up and down just as the elevator began to ascend back towards them.

“Zacharirah is here,” Harry said.

“Where?” Charlie asked.

“Mr Novak’s office,” Harry said.

“Come with me,” Chuck said and they followed Harry back down the corridor to the turn.

Charlie stopped them both. “He’s in there?” she asked with her voice low and Harry nodded. “Alone?”

“With Mr Novak,” Harry said, his voice just as low.

“Where’s Becky?” Chuck asked.

“In the copy room,” he said and Chuck took off.

“Go to your office,” Charlie said just as Dean burst through the elevator doors.

“It’s here,” Harry gestured to his desk.

Dean approached. “He’s here,” he said. “His car’s downstairs but he didn’t sign in.” He was looking at Harry.

“Go, call the police, tell them we have a fugitive and FRAs at the scene-,” Charlie said to him.

“What’s FRA?” Harry asked.

“Bounty hunters,” Dean said.

“Use any other office,” Charlie said, “and keep people away from here.” He nodded and took off.

“Where is he?” Dean asked.

“Here,” Charlie said and gestured to the office as she took her own gun out. Having no time to stop her Dean had no choice but to take his out too and back her up as she stormed towards the door.

They stopped either side and looked to each other before Dean put his hand on the door knob - the name plate on the door glinting behind his head - and turned it slowly then they nodded to each other and he pushed it inwards ahead of their movements, allowing Charlie to go in, cross over herself to the left side of the office and Dean to the right.

“Fugitive recovery agents!” they both shouted as they moved into position, lifting their guns to point at the figures.

As they did Zachariah – now standing to Cas’ left – and Cas looked to the door, Zachariah’s eyes going to Charlie’s gun and then Dean’s.

“Hands where we can-,” Dean started and then froze in the split second it took Zachariah to pull a gun from his back, step behind Cas, wrap his left arm around his front – near his clavicle – and put the gun to Cas’ right temple.

Dean and Castiel were staring at each other but Cas’ hands had automatically lifted to grab onto the arm restraining him. Dean's mouth fell open and Cas' eyes bulged as they saw each other for the first time since the court. Cas' heart wasn't the only one now beating furiously. Dean saw Charlie raise her gun in his periphery and knew she was trying to find a clear shot.

“No!” he shouted and put his left hand out, leaving his gun in his right hand, and stepped in front of Charlie who lifted her head to look at Dean with confusion. Dean’s eyes went to the older man. “Zachariah, is it?”

“How did you find me?” he asked.

“Your old job, wasn’t too much of a jump,” Charlie snarked.

“I’ll shoot!” Zachariah yelled and Charlie refocused her gun while Cas closed his eyes.

“Hey, hey!” Dean shouted in panic. “Don’t listen to her, okay?” Charlie turned her glare on Dean. “Listen to me. I’m Dean, can I call you Zach?”

“What do you want, _Dean_?”

“Lots of things. But ultimately I want you to put the gun down,” Dean said, his voice shaking a little.

Zachariah shook his head. “Can’t do that.”

“Zachariah, please,” Cas said.

“Cas-,” Dean warned and raised his eyebrows when Cas opened his eyes to look at him; the look asked him to trust him. He looked back to the offender. “Zach, listen, you _had_ to know we’d check here so some on, what’s it all about?”

Zachariah paused. “I wanted-.” He stopped.

“Tell me,” Dean urged. “I want to understand.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he spat.

“Try me,” Dean said. “We’re all relaxed. None of us is going anywhere. I got time, tell me. Come on.”

“I just wanted to explain,” he said.

“Then explain,” Dean said with a nod. Cas wasn't sure his legs were even touching the ground any more because he couldn't feel them.

“It was harmless at first,” he started. “We deal with great amounts of money that are often sitting around, waiting until they are able to be moved in the right directions. All in one account. One standard account. I set up a special account with an interest rate and that way the money would make money while it was waiting.”

“Sounds smart,” Dean said, his heartbeat almost bursting in three different places: chest, neck and ears.

“It was,” Zachariah agreed angrily repeating it.

”So, what went wrong?” Dean asked. “Was it illegal?”

“Yes,” replied Zachariah, “but that wasn’t the problem.”

“What then?”

“I couldn’t tell anyone about the interest so it too just sat there.”

Dean nodded. “And you got itchy fingers?”

“Not at first,” Zachariah said, padding his feet. “At first I was angry because I had done something for the company. I had made them money out of thin air. I should-.” He stopped and shrugged.

“You were proud,” Dean stated with a nod. “You wanted recognition.” Zachariah was silent but tense. “It’s okay, it’s not a sin.”

“Pride is a sin,” Zachariah corrected.

“Okay,” Dean conceded. “But no one’s perfect. You achieved something and then you couldn’t tell anyone. So, it was just sitting there, right?” Dean smiled a little, as if they were sharing a dirty secret between them. “Anyone could get there, to that conclusion.”

Zachariah smiled too. “Just sitting there.” He shrugged and Cas felt the lift.

“Attaboy,” Dean encouraged with a smirk. “How’d it go down? Did you withdraw over time or go for the big pay out?”

Zachariah shook his head. “I was careful, so careful. It was like _art_.”

“So, what happened?” Dean asked.

Zachariah’s face changed, his jaw became tight and he looked to the side but he didn’t answer.

“You lost her,” Castiel said for him.

“Shut up!” Zachariah spat, turning his face to the right to look at Cas as he pressed the gun against his temple. Cas took a sharp inhale in shock, sure he would pull the trigger. “You just shut up.” Cas let the air escape as he closed his eyes, realising he still had a chance.

“Hey, hey,” Dean said and Zachariah looked to him. “Ignore him, talk to me. Tell me what happened.” Dean was trying to keep eye contact with this man and not look at where the pressure from the barrel of his gun was making the skin around Cas’ temple yellow.

“We read everything,” Zachariah said, his voice cracking. “Every book and pamphlet we could find, we read them all. We watched videos, went to classes.” He shook his head. “But sometimes these things happen,” he spat as if repeating something he’d been told. “That’s what the doctors said. Scum, aren’t they? Betas. So pointless.” He shook his head again and Dean thought about Sam, as Cas knew he would be. “Right?”

“Right,” Dean said.

“What’s your presentation?” he suddenly asked Dean.

“Omega,” Dean said.

“Castiel?” Zachariah asked.

“Alpha,” Castiel muttered.

“What?” Zachariah yelled and shook him with his arm round him.

“Alpha!” Dean cut in and they all looked at him. “He said alpha.”

“Good,” Zachariah said and nodded.

Charlie shifted her arms knowing that’d he’d either forgotten her or decided she was irrelevant, either way she might be able to use that to her advantage.

Zachariah continued, “See, we have a purpose, we have roles to play. That’s how it’s supposed to go!” he yelled and Cas jumped again.

“How _did_ it go?” Dean asked, trying to keep his eyes on Zachariah instead of Cas. He was shaking, Dean could see it where Cas was holding onto the arm around him.

“Cancer in the umbilical cord,” Zachariah said, matter-of-factly. “She had to have an emergency caesarean.”

Dean looked at Cas quickly and he minutely shook his head, telling Dean that she hadn’t woken up from the procedure.

“Do you know how much they charge just to process a death?” Dean shook his head. “A lot,” Zachariah said. “Her whole medical bill, from riding in the ambulance pain killers, caesarean-.” He shook his head. “It was more than I had taken so far in total and my daughter was sick. I had no choice.”

“So, now what?” Dean asked. “Why are you here, why do you need to explain, why here?”

Dean was trying not to sound desperate but he just wanted to scream; why had he had to come here, why Cas’ office?

“Because I need people to know that I did something good, I was doing something good. That’s all. I didn’t mean for it to end like this.” He turned his head to Cas. “You understand, don’t you, Castiel?”

Cas didn’t answer but he was staring at Dean who widened his eyes, trying to urge him to play up to this guy.

“I understand,” Cas said with a strained voice and Dean nodded slowly.

“What?” Zachariah asked. “You don’t believe me?”

Cas didn’t speak again but Dean’s expression became terrified and a little shake of his head pleaded Cas not to poke the bear.

“Say it!” Zachariah screamed.

Outside Becky, Chuck and Harry were keeping people away from the corridor outside the door but Becky poked her head around and saw her boss with a gun to his head. She gasped and stepped back.

“He has a gun,” she whispered to Chuck.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“It’s not,” she said.

“It will be,” Chuck tried to reassure her.

“He’s-, he has a gun to Mr Novaks head!” she exclaimed and Chuck grabbed her in a hug shushing her.

“You knew it was illegal when you set up the account,” Castiel said and Dean wanted to close his eyes but couldn’t. “You’re not as innocent as you like to portray yourself.”

“I was trying to help!” Zachariah shouted and Becky jumped in Chuck’s hold.

“Okay,” Chuck said. “Go down to reception and meet the police.” She tried to argue. “Becky, there’s no time, you can’t help him, go and get the people who can.”

She nodded, turned and ran for the elevator while Chuck and Harry shared a look.

“You know how hard it is to keep an account, how quickly we can go from overworked to sitting on our hands. Do you know what it’s like to have your world crumble around you and have no way of stopping it?”

“I do,” Dean said and the other three looked at him. “I know what it’s like to wake up one morning and everything has changed.” He looked at Cas. “Suddenly everything is different and there’s nothing you can do.” He looked back to Zachariah. “But-.” His brow dipped. “Everything else stays the same. It’s like the two can’t co-exist. They just-. It’s not possible. Like a picture developed over a picture. Yet, everyone else keeps going to work and getting dinner and going out having fun. All the time you’re rotting from somewhere inside and it hurts so much that you start to think that no one could possibly _not_ sense this, someone _must_ see that everything has changed-.”

Cas and Charlie looked at Dean as his face reddened and he had to stop talking.

“You wish that they would,” Zachariah added and Dean nodded then glanced to Cas – aware he was watching him – and then away again. “But it crosses a line and there’s no going back.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “Let’s just back up. You’re talking like you’re on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump.”

“How else would you describe this?” Zachariah asked. “This gun isn’t for show.”

Dean panicked. No, guns weren't for show, and it was pointed at Cas' head. That wasn't for show either, none of this was. He came here, with that gun, for a reason and Dean felt powerless to stop it.

He stepped forward, Charlie levelling her gun behind him, waiting for a shot. “Now, you listen to me. I am sick of roles and lines, okay? A jury might look at a devoted husband and new father, who was t-boned out of nowhere, with empathy. But you can’t expect them to see that if you come in here and put a gun to an innocent man’s head.”

“Innocent?!” Zachariah boomed. “You think he’s innocent?”

“What did he do?” Dean asked, taking a step forward, now almost flush against the desk, making Charlie step to her left to keep the fugitive in her sights. “You tell me that. Just a single guy, working down the hall.”

“How do you know he’s single?”

“He’s not wearing a wedding band,” Dean said.

“He goes on heat leave,” Zachariah retorted. “Heat leave.”

“Okay, is that a crime? Didn’t you say it gave him purpose?”

“He does everything I do but he’s _stupid_ ,” Zachariah said through gritted teeth. “I’m the one that made the company money, I won the Avalon account, I won the Sterident account, the Bloody Mary account. Me! I had the perfect marriage, my perfect pregnant wife. Why hasn’t his life fallen apart?!”

“It’s not-. You can’t put it down to any one thing. What happened to you, it’s awful but it’s not his fault, it’s not anyone’s fault. Pointing a gun at someone is not an expression in any way,” Dean said, repeating Cas’ words. “It’s not a solution. It won’t undo anything. It’ll make this worse!”

“There’s already no going back,” Zachariah said. “You’re here to take me to jail.”

“Yes,” Dean said. “let’s make that for embezzlement and not mur-.” Dean inhaled hard, feeling the panic rise up. “Not murder.” He pushed it down. “Come on.”

“No,” Zachariah said and Cas shut his eyes again while Zachariah moved the gun to Cas’ cheek, he felt the flesh inside push against his teeth and gums. Bile rose in his throat and he thought about his parents; he thought about waking up in bed when he knew he’d fallen asleep in front of the television. He felt a sudden flush of cold sweat. He was going to die.

“Your kid!” Dean blurted in a panic and Zachariah looked at him sharply. “Do you want him or her-?”

“Her,” Zachariah corrected.

“Well, would you want her to grow up with daddy stuck in the mirror? What about when she gets older, she’ll read about it, everything’s on the internet now, you don’t have to go looking for it, it just shows up.” He put his left hand out. “Let him go.”

Zachariah looked from Dean to Charlie thinking about how his little girl had fallen asleep in his arms.

“Please,” Dean said softly, his brow dipping in a plea.

Zachariah’s own brow dipped as Dean’s face reddened and a tear fell down his cheek as he looked to Cas’ face. Dean felt like he was going to explode inside, his lungs hurt, his head was pounding and his heart was having sort kind of seizure in his chest. And the pain in Cas’ eyes made his legs shake. He thought about the look on Cas’ face as he’d walked passed him in the court and felt sick at the thought that that was their last interaction. He looked back to Zachariah and mouthed the word again, knowing that Charlie was keeping her eyes and gun trained on him and couldn’t see the tear trailing down his left cheek.

Zachariah looked from him to Castiel, who glanced to Zachariah but looked back to Dean again, knowing that if these were his last moments on this earth then he wanted them to be looking into Dean’s eyes.

Zachariah exhaled sharply realising that these two knew each other; an alpha who goes on heat leave and an omega desperate to save his life – it all made sense.

“Cas,” he said softly, remembering this stranger calling his co-worker by his first name with no way he could have known it.

“Give me the gun,” Dean said.

“I’m sure you’d rather have this,” Zachariah said and threw Cas to his left so that he stumbled and hit the filing cabinets with a chorus of hollow metallic beats and he turned to look at his former colleague. Charlie looked to the Cas stumble and lowered her gun whilst Dean took a step to his right and watched him as Becky – who’d given up waiting for the police downstairs – and Chuck stepped out to look, curiosity overriding their senses.

Zachariah took steps back towards the window and lifted the gun under his chin.

“No,” Charlie said and began lifting her gun again when Dean and Cas looked from each other to him.

“Wait,” Dean said and stepped towards him.

“There’s no going back,” Zachariah said and pulled the trigger with his eyes wide open. His head tilted back, forcing his mouth open as the light left his eyes. There was a red splatter on the window - making Becky scream which was only muffled when Chuck grasped her in a hug - and a crack as the bullet hit the wall high up near the ceiling. Zachariah’s body thumped against the window and then fell to the floor behind Cas’ desk while small chunks of plaster rained down with powder.

Cas’ legs went weak, air rushed from him as if he’d been winded and he stumbled, falling to the ground, staring at the man lying dead in a heap behind his desk chair. Out in the corridor Becky was sobbing into Chuck’s chest and Harry was turning on the spot before realising it was fruitless to deny it, he fell to his knees at Becky’s desk and threw up in her trash can. Blood and brain matter ran down the window at varying speeds over the small ledge and down the wall and the three in the office watched it for a few seconds longer than the spectators in the corridor. 

Dean tucked his gun in his belt in a rush while Charlie slowly slid hers in and watched Dean take two steps and then kneel in front of the man against the cabinets. Dean wiped the tears from his face quickly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dean said. “Look at me.” When Cas didn’t, his eyes still on the man who was lying in an ever-increasing pool of blood, he used his hands on Cas’ face to turn it to look at him. “Look at me.”

Charlie called the police again and watched them as she relayed the situation.

Cas grasped at Dean’s arms. “I-! That-! He-!” He pointed to Zachariah with his right hand and Dean grabbed it and held it in his left.

“I know, it’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay, you’re alive, you’re not hurt. It’s alright, just focus on me.”

“Oh God,” Castiel said and leaned to put his head against Dean’s chest.

“S’okay,” Dean said and exhaled as he put his right hand on Cas’ head all the while Charlie looked between them and the splatter thinking about what Zachariah had said. She felt like the only person in a room who had been out of the loop.

 

Dean kept up his reassuring mantra and Cas tried to calm down but other than that neither of them said anything in the time that it took for the emergency services to arrive. Dean had his eyes closed , thinking about the way that Cas had face death by staring right at Dean. Cas was breathing in Dean's scent while he was trying to calm himself down, it was soothing and yet it hurt him deep inside in ways he wasn't aware it could. He felt like he could smell laundry and Dean's brow dipped when he could taste vodka on his tongue. He tried to swallow the taste away but it didn't seem to want to go away easily. 

Charlie had mentioned Cas’ possible state of shock on the phone so Dean had stepped away when the second EMTs had turned up, he had stumbled backwards into Charlie who caught him and asked him if he was okay. He didn’t answer, he just stood and stared at Castiel until the police came.

She wondered why he looked so ashen, so affected by this particular scene. Anyone normal would be but they were bounty hunters and she knew Dean was tougher than most yet he was looking down at this stranger like he’d almost lost the love of his life, his best friend, his family - and was only just realising it.

She had to physically drag Dean away when the police wanted to speak to him. Dean was in a daze; he knew what it felt like to have the barrel of a gun pressed against his head and he had friends and colleagues who knew what it felt like too. He wondered if Cas’ legs had gone numb, if he’d suddenly needed the bathroom, if his head had spun. The selfish part of him wondered what he’d thought about, if anything, or anyone. He wondered if Cas had thought about their time together.

“Dean,” Charlie said and Cas looked up at him as she pulled at his arm. “Dean, come on!”

She tugged and when Cas looked down at the floor again Dean felt rejected. He walked away with her feeling as if the sting of Cas looking away without his usual intense stare was like a lock falling hard into place.

 

He stood in front of a police officer who was questioning him feeling stunned with the slowly dawning realisation that he had walked away from Cas and what they’d had. No matter how effective a memory modifier a gun to the temple could be, Dean’s thought were not just selfish, they were cruel. He suddenly recognised that the look in Cas’ eyes, that dullness, was intense hurt. Dean had hurt Cas. In being too terrified and ashamed to admit to Cas what had happened – what he’d felt he’d caused – he’d hurt the one person he had never wanted to; he’d hurt the one person he’d worried would look at him and judge him, hate him even, the way that he hated himself for what had happened.

The EMTs decided that it would be best to take Castiel out of the building and into their ambulance to access him for possible shock.

“Do you have anyone we can call?” one asked as they walked him from the room.

“No,” Cas said, “I don’t have anyone.”

Dean’s eyes closed and he put his right hand over his mouth as Cas walked passed him.

Becky had calmed down and was nodding as Chuck reassured her and Harry was sitting in her chair with a plastic cup of water. She saw Cas was on the move and announced that she was going with him stopping briefly to mutter to Chuck that her boss needed a new office. Chuck then put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and asked him if he was feeling better to which Harry merely nodded and took another drink.

Dean turned to his left to watch Cas turn towards the elevator and when he didn’t turn to look at Dean he felt sick. He wanted to run after him but had to stand there and answer questions from an officer while two medical examiners pushed passed into the office where another officer was taking pictures of the position of the body. Charlie was stood at the junction of the corridor answering questions from another officer but she was shooting Dean anxious looks which the officer queried and nodded when Charlie explained that she was worried about her partner.

They each gave brief statements and made appointments to go to their local station and give more detailed statements at a later time and then they were allowed to go as the officers moved on to Chuck and Harry, quickly calling down to their colleague outside to make sure that Becky did not leave Castiel’s side as they would both need to be questioned.

Dean stopped at the junction of the corridor and looked from left to right, unsure where to go or what to do. Charlie watched him for a second and then took his arm. “Come on,” she said and began to walk towards the elevator, Dean looked at her as if it were the first time he’d seen her today and then followed her lead.

The rest of the workers who had been in their offices that day when everything had gone off were now gone – ushered out by officers when they arrived – everywhere was abandoned and yet busy with officers, giving the building an invaded feeling.

However, Dean barely noticed any of them as he was lead to the elevator because he was thinking about the man downstairs sitting in the back of an ambulance, possibly shaking and with no next of kin. He wanted to know if he was okay, he wanted to go down there and jump in the ambulance with him, to tell the EMTs that he was the one he could call, that he was his next of kin, but all he could see was the pain and betrayal in his eyes as he’d looked away. He didn’t think he could stand to see that again.

Dean stopped dead in the corridor just before the elevator and turned a little to Charlie. “Can-, can you get the car and meet me in the parking garage?”

Charlie normally would have asked why but she was struck by the fact that Dean – her friend and nearly her brother – wanted _her_ to drive his car, the car that he barely let his real, blood brother drive, so she nodded and they continued to the elevator where Charlie pressed the call button and leaned back to Dean holding out his bundle of keys for her. She took them as the doors opened and Dean walked into the shaft and gripped the bar that ran along the edge, putting his head against the mirrored wall and closed his eyes.

Charlie looked at him as she walked in, pressed the button for the ground floor and then the parking garage as the doors closed.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” she asked.

Dean opened his eyes and looked at himself when he realised that Cas looked at Samandriel in a mirror like this with more emotion than he’d looked up at Dean just a few minutes ago.

He didn’t answer and when the doors opened onto the chaos of the ground floor Charlie glanced to Dean before she left with Dean’s keys and made towards the exit. She was stopped by an officer who radioed up before she’d let her go, by which time Dean was exiting into the car garage.

He exhaled as the doors opened and he walked over before looking around. He found it empty, most of the cars gone, and he walked towards the exit. There were still a few cars and one caught his eye: a cream coloured Lincoln that had been his saviour’s charger when he was just seventeen. On the wall in front of it was a plastic name plate with Castiel’s full name.

Dean wiped the tears from his face as he put his head down and walked passed the car, trying as hard as he could not to see that man with a gun to his head, thinking he might die.

To Charlie’s surprise Dean didn’t insist on driving, instead he just got into the passenger seat beside her and stared ahead. He said nothing about where they were going or her driving as she’d expected. Neither of them noticed Castiel watching the car drive passed – Charlie because she was driving and Dean because he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head.

 

The EMTs decided to take Castiel to the hospital to make sure he wasn’t in shock when he suddenly began sobbing in the back of the ambulance and couldn’t explain why. Whether it was watching Dean drive away or what he’d been through or perhaps all of it in one, Cas could not decide.

 

When Charlie pulled the car into the parking lot behind Dean’s apartment complex – because there were no spaces at the front – they hadn’t said a word to each other. She wasn’t sure what to expect: maybe some kind of explanation or critique of her driving now that he’d calmed down. However, Dean silently took his seatbelt off and exited the car.

“Dean?” she said and took her seatbelt off in a rush, as she got out of the car and looked over the hood to see Dean grab the door as someone exited the building. She looked around, not sure what to do as the car she was half-in and half-out of rumbled beneath her.

Dean often left his apartment open but when he got up there he realised that he’d locked his apartment door days ago and spent that time in between in the bunker. He put his hands in his pockets looking for his keys before screaming in frustration and thumping his front door.

He turned when the door behind him opened.

“I’m sorry, Mildred,” he said and exhaled. “I-,” he began to cry, “I’ve locked myself out.”

She sighed and then seemed to realise something as he stepped back towards her and readied himself to run at it. “Wait, wait, wait!” she said and Dean looked at her. “They gave me a key.”

Dean blanched, tears already drying. “What? Who?” She disappeared into the apartment and Dean turned to look as she began rummaging in a drawer to the left of the doorway. “When?”

“Your brother was in the hospital, Jess was gone, they changed the door and handed it to me” She held it out with a shrug. “No one came to pick it up, your brother moved out and I forgot all about it.” She swallowed. “My son was going through some things.”

Dean paused with the key in his hand. “Thank you, Mildred,” he said and made to turn away.

“Uh,” she said and he turned to look at her again, “are you okay, honey?” He looked down. “You look like you’ve been through hell.”

Dean looked up to her. “I have,” he said and gestured to the key. “Thank you again. If it’s okay, I’ll get this back to you?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “It’s your key.”

Dean nodded and turned, pushing the key in the lock and disappeared inside. As he closed the door he was suddenly glad that the door had been locked, preventing any other hunters from hanging around.

He locked the door behind him and pulled his jacket off as he walked to the bedroom. He threw himself onto the bed with his jacket in one hand and the spare key he never knew he had in the other.

While he was trying to get into his own apartment Charlie had locked up his car and walked to a nearby taco cart to grab something. As she stood in the line to be served she made a decision that the behaviour was too out of character so she dialled Sam and put the phone to her ear as she was handed her order.

“Thank you,” she said and gave him the money. “Keep the change.” She walked away to the inside of the sidewalk, out of the way of anyone who could listen.

Sam was in the file room while his cell was sat on his night stand as it lit up and vibrated. So, Charlie called Kevin because he was the only other person that she knew would be in the bunker.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Kevin asked from the research room.

 _“Not good, I need to speak to Sam,”_ she said.

“Then call him,” Kevin said bitterly.

_“Kev-.”_

“He left me in a cell, Charlie!” Kevin shouted into the receiver.

 _“Enough!”_ Charlie snapped. _“I am sorry that Sam didn’t check his cell and left you in jail, Kevin. But how many times has he been there for you before?”_

“I know, Charlie, but he knows what happened to my mom!”

 _“Yeah, exactly, he does! That’s my exact point, Kev. He knows what happened, he knows how long she was held captive. So, do you really think he would intentionally leave you there, knowing how terrified you’d be?”_ Kevin looked down at his feet. _“Does that sound like Sam to you?”_

Kevin sighed. “I’ll go find him,” he said and lowered the cell as he walked through the corridors to check different areas of the bunker. He ducked his head into the kitchen and found it empty so he continued on passed a corridor of rooms and then took a left at the next corridor, passing his own room on his right, and knocked room number twelve. There was no answer so he turned back the way he came and checked the bathroom ahead before turning left and going to the supply room on the corner before the garage, when he found that empty he turned back on himself and turned left, away from the kitchen, and ran down the stairs to the next level down.

He jumped the last three steps and then turned left to check in, what they called, the gym. Inside the gym to the left were men’s and women’s changing rooms, both of which had a strip of shower stalls, and on the right there was a section devoted to exercise activities with equipment such as treadmills, bikes and rowing machines as well as various weight machines and mats all around a small boxing ring that was the feature of the room. At the very end was a swimming pool a quarter of the size of an Olympic pool and two sectioned off areas filled with cold and hot water to ease fatigue or cut it off at the start.

The entire area was still and abandoned.

Kevin turned around, still holding his cell at his side as Charlie, on the other end, made a valiant effort on demolishing her taco. Kevin walked passed another corridor with rooms on his left, an enclosed area on the right for bins for the bunker, rooms on the left side of the next corridor and a bathroom on the right. He pushed the bathroom door inwards and found it empty again so he took a left and halfway along the corridor on the right – opposite the rooms – he pushed in a heavy oak door with a plaque with the words _Dean Cave_ on the front, and ducked his head into a room with low lighting. On the left there was a screen the size of the wall with six couches in front of it, three on a higher level, there were also a few bar stools dotted around as if they’d been pulled there to watch a film and hadn’t been returned to the bar on the right hand side of the room. In front of that bar there were two pool tables with lights above it that had recently been lifted as Sam was sick of banging his head on them.

Kevin sighed when he found this room empty too so he ducked out again and let the door close as he walked back along the corridor and took a left and then knocked on the right. It was now the file room whereas the room on the other side of the _Dean Cave_ had be repurposed as the bunker’s mainframe. Even though it was up and running the bunker’s digital switch over wasn’t finished so the number of files the bunker hadn’t converted yet were boxed in an old supply room, the door of which Sam pulled inward.

Sam didn’t know what to say to him and so he just stared at him.

“Um,” Kevin said and held the cell out, “Charlie.”

Sam hesitated, noting that Kevin’s averted gaze wasn’t angry but ashamed. He stepped towards Kevin and took the cell. “Thanks,” he said and Kevin nodded while he stuck his hands in his front pockets as Sam put the phone to his ear. “Hey Charlie, what’s up?”

Charlie’s voice suddenly came through, panicked, loud and fast, “We went to Grace Account Management to see if my bail’s old boss knew where he could be, I didn’t expect him to actually be there, he had a gun and he took a hostage-!” She waved her hand as she spoke, her taco long gone.

Kevin began to turn away when Sam interrupted Charlie and his tone made Kevin stop and turn back.

“What?” Sam’s brow scrunched in confusion and he lifted his left hand. “Slow down, Charlie. Bails have guns all the time. What hostage?”

“I don’t know, some guy, but Dean-.”

Sam’s face relaxed and his jaw set. “Is he okay?” he asked. “Is Dean okay?”

Kevin stepped towards him and Sam turned more towards him.

“He’s fine, he wasn’t shot or anything,” she said and Sam exhaled sharply then when he saw Kevin looking at him he shook his head. “He’s fine but he’s not fine.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean?” Sam asked, lifting his hand to sweep his hair from his face.

“Neither do I,” Charlie said. “I’ve never seen him like that. It was like he’d seen a ghost. He got me to drive him home, in his own car, Sam!”

“Wait, what?” Sam’s brow dipped. “What did he say?”

“Barely anything. I had to drag him away from the hostage, he answered the cops, asked me to bring the car into the parking garage to pick him up and that was it. When we got to his apartment building he just got out of the car without a word and walked away. I still have his keys. I’m worried, Sam.”

Sam didn’t understand; his brother was like steel in the face of confrontation. “What was the bail’s name, did he know him?”

“Zachariah, no. But…” She hesitated.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his head lifting. “Charlie, tell me.”

“It sounds insane but it felt like he knew the hostage, but how could he and even if he did, why would he act like that? One minute he was holding him and telling him it’d be okay and the next he looked like he was going to throw up as I dragged him away. I really had to drag him away, Sam. Physically drag him.”

“Who was the hostage?”

“I have no idea, he had a weird name, Italian or something,” she said. “He worked at the firm.”

“Italian?” Sam asked, trying to think who it could be.

“Yeah, ended in –iel.”

Sam’s face fell. “Castiel?”

“Yeah!” Charlie said. “Do you know him?”

“Stay there, I’m coming,” Sam said and hung up the phone before Charlie could say any more. He shoved the cell phone into Kevin’s hands as he pushed passed him to leave. “Thanks.”

Kevin moved out of the way and turned to face Sam before following him into the corridor. He took a left and walked back along towards the stairwell. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

“Talking to me now?” Sam quipped over his shoulder as he bolted to the stairs and began taking them two at a time.

Kevin struggled to keep up. “Sam-.”

“He’s-,” Sam used his right hand on the handrail to pull himself around to the next set of stairs. “He’s not okay, I don’t know what’s wrong,” Sam said.

“I’m coming,” Kevin stated as he followed him up the stairs.

As Sam reached the top of the stairs he took a sharp right and took the second left, walking to the third bedroom on the left, inputted his passcode and barrelled inside. He grabbed his cell phone, jacket and car keys before he and Kevin walked back the way they’d came but took a left towards the garage instead of right.

 

Sam wasn’t thinking of anything other than getting to his brother and so that’s why – half an hour later – he, Kevin and Charlie were running up the stairs to Dean’s apartment. Sam took two at a time and Charlie did the same, however at a slower pace and Kevin tried to keep up behind them.

Sam rattled the doorknob and then turned, rolling his hand to Charlie. “Gimme the keys,” he said.

“What’s going on, Sam?” Kevin asked, looking at his panic and wondering what could possibly cause this reaction.

“Come on!” Sam encouraged as Charlie handed him the keys and he rushed to open the door hoping that the chain wasn’t on.

Sam burst in the door as Dean was emerging, worse for wear, from the bedroom, wiping his eyes. “Jesus, Sam, break the door down, why doncha?”

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Sam asked. “Castiel.”

Dean’s face hardened. “Leave me alone,” he warned and made to turn around.

Sam strode towards him and Kevin closed the door behind them. “No!” he said and grabbed Dean’s arm. “I won’t watch you,” Dean whipped his hand away as he turned to face his brother, “do this to yourself!”

“Oh, I’m expected to sit back and watch you on the edge of killing yourself. I have to watch that without saying a word but I can’t go through a break up?”

Charlie and Kevin shared a look, both wondering if they should leave.

“This isn’t a break up, Dean, this is a tragedy. You pushed him away, you didn’t even explain-.”

“And just how would I do that?” Dean snapped. “How do I tell him I lost his kid, Sam?”

Kevin and Charlie both exhaled with their own personal shock; Kevin knew the pain that Dean was going through and Charlie had watched her girlfriend go through it.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sam argued.

“Stop it!” Dean yelled. “Just stop it, Sam! I don’t want to talk about it.” Tears began to fall from his eyes without warning.

“You _need_ to talk about it,” Sam said. “You need to tell this guy why you abandoned him!”

Dean’s eyes went to Sam’s. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“What’s not fair is the way you’ve treated him,” Sam argued. “You won’t even listen to his voicemail.”

Dean stared at Sam for a few seconds and then pointed at Sam before disappearing into the bedroom, Kevin and Charlie looked at each other before Dean remerged and threw his jacket at Sam who caught it moving his head a little to the right so that it didn’t hit him in the face, he kept his eyes on Dean.

“You listen to it!” he screamed and Charlie lifted her hand to her mouth, never having seen Dean this distraught before. “You want to know why I can’t listen to it, Sam? Because I can’t stand the idea of hearing how much he hates me.”

Charlie thought back to the way he was looking at Dean while Zachariah held him hostage. It was more than Dean being his potential saviour in the situation it was sheer disbelief and bittersweet gratitude.

“What if he doesn’t?” Charlie couldn’t help but asking and the three turned to look at her before Kevin and Sam turned back to Dean who looked at her.

“I think that would be worse,” Dean answered.

Sam used one hand to hold the collar of Dean’s coat and used his other hand to retrieve Dean’s cell from his pocket then began unlocking it and trying to find the voicemail number.

“We should-,” Charlie said to Kevin.

Dean turned to walk back to his bedroom but Sam grabbed his arm again, Dean whipped his hand and pushing him back.

“You have to, Dean!” Sam yelled, as if pleading.

“Why?” Dean asked, his arms wide. “Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I know it’ll torture you and I know what happens to Winchesters when they’re tortured.”

Sam’s lips pursed together, his face reddening and his brow lifting then tensing in sheer pain. Dean thought back to the things that Cas had said about his and Sam’s father and Sam’s reaction to Dean’s drinking.

Dean sighed and lifted his right hand to Sam’s neck then the back of his head. “Alright,” he said. “Alright, Sammy.” Sam nodded, his eyes red and welled up while he tried to smile without sobbing.

“We’re gonna go,” Kevin said and Charlie nodded.

“Your keys,” Charlie added and gestured to them before putting them down on Dean’s kitchen table as Kevin opened the door.

The both lingered, looking at Dean, each with a different kind of pity in their eyes, before they left.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I didn’t think about them following me, I just panicked.”

Dean walked passed his brother to the couch and sat down heavily. “S’okay,” he said and gestured to the phone in Sam’s hand. “Let’s do this.” He beckoned quickly with his fingers, gesturing for Sam to hand him the phone but when Sam hesitated Dean sighed. “I’m not gonna delete it, Sam.” He dropped his hand. “You play it then.”

Sam slowly walked towards Dean and sat on the coffee table across from him. Dean leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together, rubbing them nervously. Sam dialled the voicemail number and then put it on speakerphone.

_“You have… one new message. To listen to the message, press one now.”_

Dean nodded, looking at the floor and pushing his lips out as he struggled to keep his breathing even.

Sam pressed one, still looking at his brother, and then second Cas’ voice came through Dean let his head fall:

_‘Hello Dean… I admit, I expected you to answer your cell phone this time, especially after today. Perhaps it was just hope on my part. Yes, I hoped you would, just to allow me to hear your voice one last time. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you today, not the way I wanted to be, however, I understand now. I get the message. So, this will be the last time you hear from me.’_

Dean leaned back and looked at the phone while Sam stared at his brother’s face, watching the redness slowly creep around his features. It was very obvious that Cas was drunk, his words were slurred and yet clear: he knew what he was saying, it had just taken a few drinks to get the courage up to do so.

_‘Well… I can only hope that, in six year’s time, our paths will cross one last time. For nothing more than to see for myself that you’re well. However, I doubt God will grant me that prayer because it’s not what you need. At first, not hearing from you terrified me…’_

Dean nodded as if that thought had occurred to him too and brought his hand up to wipe his mouth and sat forward again, Sam saw the tears falling down his face as he looked at the floor again.

_‘… I worried that something had happened to you but when your cell still had battery some days later I knew you were choosing not to answer me. I thought perhaps you were working but then today came and it was obvious I had been clutching at straws. Everything was confirmed for me, whether I was ready for it or not.’_

There was a pause on the other line and Sam winced when they could hear Cas make a noise that could only be somewhere between a sob and anguish that he was trying to suppress. Dean moved both his hands to the top of his head and rocked a little before stilling, when Cas spoke again his voice was laced with the emotion he was trying to keep in.

_‘I have to admit I was angry. Hurt and angry. Angrier than I have been for a long time. I felt like I was transported back, mentally, to when I was a child and families didn’t want to even foster me.’_

There was a definite slur there and Sam’s brow drew together in deeper worry; he was worried about the man on the other end of the phone but he was also worried that the man in front of him wasn’t up to dealing with the guilt from this.

 _‘But it was worse than that because you_ had _picked me, you’d let me think I was home-.’_

He was interrupted by a sob and Dean’s entire body shook but then Cas took a second, cleared his throat and spoke clearer afterwards.

_‘That was my fault, I realise that. I’m not angry anymore, because I realise I’m being selfish, this isn’t about me.’_

Dean lifted his hands and then head to look at the phone, Sam looked at his face – red and soaked in tears.

_‘You need to walk away for me, for whatever reason. It doesn’t matter what the reason, I realise that. I hope you do too. When we started this it was because we understood each other or because we knew we could and I do, Dean. Whatever your reasons just know that I don’t need explanations. I understand, I will always understand. Please, don’t torture yourself over his.’_

Dean closed his eyes.

 _‘You were the…_ best _thing that_ ever _happened to me.’_

Dean squeezed his eyes closed.

_‘As well as being adopted. With my parents I found the home I needed and with you I found the home I wanted. That’s why I need you to know that I’m okay. Please don’t beat yourself up about how this ended, because, like I said, I understand, Dean. Remember that, and remember that you deserve much more than you know. You’re disgustingly normal...’_

Dean tried to smile but couldn’t.

 _‘… yet so devastatingly_ _special. It was a privilege…_ ’

At this Dean lowered his head again and put his hands on his head, shaking his head slightly.

_‘… and an honour. I hope that you come and find me in six years time, just to let me see you flourishing. Just don’t forget me, that’d be too much. Goodbye D-. Goodbye, baby.’_

There was a beep, signalling the end of the message and when prompted to Sam saved the message then hung up the phone.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Sam said cautiously.

Dean was silent.

“He knows you better than I do,” Sam added.

Again, Dean was silent.

Dean didn’t know what to think; Cas had clearly been drunk and hurting. Yet, his words were tearing him apart. He wondered how he would have felt standing in front of Cas in that office if he’d already heard that message and, it dawned on him that, the pain in Cas’ eyes might have been in part due to the perceived ignorance of this heartfelt goodbye message. He remembered the way that Cas had clung to him in fear and shock as he sat on the floor; it had felt to Dean like he was suddenly breathing after drowning for weeks, however it was painful and strained, as if he didn’t deserve any of it.

“Dean?” Sam said tentatively.

Sam put the cell phone down on the coffee table as he leaned forward but Dean still hadn’t moved or spoke.

Part of Dean wanted Cas to hate him, he didn’t want him to understand, he didn’t want Cas to be trying to make him better. He needed Cas to be disgusted by his very existence and there was only one way to achieve that.

“I need to tell him,” Dean said, his tone so low that Sam couldn’t hear what he’d said.

“What?” Sam asked, dipping his head.

Dean lifted his head and Sam did too – to avoid being head-butted – to see Dean’s face still red and wet with tears that he didn’t think Dean was even aware of or perhaps cared about.

“Would you drive me to his house? I have to tell him,” Dean said to his brother who had no idea of Dean’s motives.

Sam swallowed and nodded, deciding to let himself think about everything in the car. He wanted to concentrate on getting Dean in the car and on the road to telling Castiel knowing he’d be less likely to back out. He knew that Dean needed to get it out of his system so that he could move on. He handed Dean’s jacket to him – it had fallen to the floor in all the shouting – and then his cell phone before they made their way towards the door.

Dean grabbed his keys from the table as they left and handed them to Sam, walking away and leaving Sam to lock up.

Dean didn’t say anything after giving Sam the address for the entire drive. Sam expected some aggressive comment on his inability to drive purely because he was angry and needed to shout at someone, but he didn’t do anything except clasp his jacket to his chest.

Dean stared out of his window at the streets as they drove. Despite the clear skies above there was a wind blowing and, judging by their attire, people were feeling it. Dean barely even registered Sam putting the heater on in the car, he just watched a chip packet blow in the wind until they passed it. He tried not to but all he could hear was the pain in Cas’ voice as he told Dean that everything was okay.

He sniffed as he recognised the street and he shifted in his seat. The street was around half full of cars and there was a motorbike in front of Cas’ house so Dean gestured to the other side of the street. “On the right,” he said, and looked to the familiar car in Cas’ driveway. A part of him had hoped that Cas wasn’t in and he knew it was the cowardly part of him.

“Here?” Sam asked as he slowed to a stop and looked across Dean who gestured across his brother to their left at the familiar house and nodded. Sam took a quick look over the house and car on the driveway then looked to Dean as he looked down again. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

Dean looked to Sam and then shook his head to which Sam nodded once, having expected that answer. “No,” Dean clarified. “But thank you,” he said and Sam looked to him, “for the offer and the lift.”

Dean immediately got out of the car holding his jacket and closed the door behind him. He paused and looked at the house, knowing that this marked a major point in his life. He wanted to run and never look back and yet a part of him equally wanted to ring the doorbell. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for Cas to hate him for definite but he knew that whatever happened this man – this sweet man with far too much heart – deserved the truth. After all, it’s all he’d ever given Dean.

He exhaled and then dropped his hand, still clutching his jacket, before looking left then right and walking across the deserted street.

“Walkin’ the green mile,” Dean muttered to himself as he took the three steps up to the chair.

He looked down and exhaled, Sam watching him pad his feet and then lift his right hand to knock the door but then lower it again. He turned on the spot and put his hand over his mouth, he then noticed Sam watching him so he lowered his hand and turned back to the door before rapping his knuckles on the screen door.

He turned and swallowed, expecting Sam to leave but he was searching for his cell phone and he could faintly hear it ringing, he then turned back when he heard footsteps on the other side of the door as the ringing stopped. His heart was in his throat.

Cas opened the door and froze, looking at Dean who noticed he was just in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Dean looked over him for the first time in a long time, his reaction that of pure panic and not wanting to stare into his eyes. Cas hadn’t shaved in a few days and Dean wondered how he hadn’t noticed it in the office but the puffiness of his face suggested he’d been asleep.

“Heya Cas,” Dean said sheepishly.

“Dean, I-,” Cas stuttered, running a hand over his stubble.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Dean said and swallowed hard again, feeling himself shake. “Can I come in?”

Cas hesitated, his eyes on Dean’s, and wondered what else he could possibly say after today. Eventually he nodded and walked into the hallway then disappeared into the living room as Dean pulled the screen door open. Cas had ran away, too scared to allow Dean close again, anyone could see that. Dean closed the house door behind him and reached out to put his coat on the peg, he then stopped when it felt presumptuous but then decided it didn’t matter in comparison to what he was about to say so hung it up anyway.

Dean then followed Cas into the living room and saw it was the same as he remembered it although he wasn’t sure how much he’d expected it to change.

“What did the EMTs say, are you okay?” Dean asked.

Cas stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face Dean. “Yes, I’m fine. Would you like a drink?” he asked.

“No,” Dean said with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but I have something that I need to tell you and I couldn’t do it over the phone.” He inhaled shakily.

Cas’ brow tensed. “Did you not receive my voicemail? I told you, I don’t need an explanation-.”

“No, it’s not that,” Dean said and then tilted his head. “Well, I guess it is, in a way.” He sighed to himself, closing his eyes briefly and Cas looked over his face, sensing his distress, and watched him tightening his eyes. “But I need to tell you why. Even if you don’t need to hear it.” He opened his eyes and looked at Cas. “I need to say it. For both of us.”

Cas regarded him and then nodded. “Okay,” he said.

Dean exhaled sharply with the realisation that this was the time, that there was no backing out now. He chuckled nervously but without mirth and turned on the spot a few times.

“Where do I start?” he said and chuckled again.

“Dean it’s okay,” Cas said and Dean closed his eyes, “you don’t have to do this, but you _can_ , if you-.”

Dean actually sobbed in response, making Cas stop. “Trust you to be… _you._ ” He exhaled, opened his eyes and turned to look at Cas. “I never deserved you, you know that?”

Cas’ eyes tightened in pain. “I respectfully disagree,” he said, his throat tight.

“I treated you like crap, Cas. I mean, I shouted at you, I pushed you away right after pulling you in, I slammed you into a door-.”

Cas turned away from Dean and walked into the kitchen. “If you came here to go around in circles,” he pulled a glass from a shelf and then slid a nearly empty vodka bottle from the side before lifting it to open it, “and hurt me further-.” He tilted his head and began pouring it into the glass.

“No,” Dean said and took a step after him, tasting the vodka from earlier in his memory. “I’m not, I swear.” Cas put the bottle down and picked up the glass, turning to look at Dean. “And the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. But I feel like that’s all I’ve ever done. I swear, when I blew you off-,” Cas took a drink, “- I’m not even gonna sugar coat it, that’s what I did, it wasn’t me trying to hurt you. It was still unbelievably selfish and I could stand here and pull an American idol moment where I give my sob stories – no childhood, abusive father, adult responsibilities no kid should have to think about, best friend raping someone in place of me, you know the drill – and hope I’ll ride it all to the next stage but I won’t. The only thing that screwed up the best thing ever happened to _me_ ,” he put his hand to his chest and paused, taking a second to breathe, “was me.”

“Dean-,” Cas protested.

Dean put his hands out. “Let me finish, Cas. I really gotta get this out and then I’m gone,” he wiped his hand in the air, “you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

Cas looked down, trying not to remind Dean that he was the one who walked away, and swallowed hard, the vodka after-taste burning.

“I-,” Cas forced himself to look up again as Dean spoke, “there’s something I haven’t told you and I’ve recently realised that I was wrong.” They stared at each other.

Cas could tell that whatever it was it was bad enough for Dean to completely withdraw from him and whatever they had together.

“Please,” Dean asked.

Cas hesitated and then nodded. “If that’s what you really need, go ahead.”

Dean bit his lip momentarily. “Okay. Here goes.” He inhaled and nodded as he exhaled. “After I saw you I felt kinda sluggish after a night with Sam. I went to bed and I-” Dean inhaled and then forcibly exhaled. “I woke up covered in blood.”

“What?” Cas said and put his glass down on the island as he moved passed it towards Dean and put his hands on his arms. “Are you okay?” He lifted his hands to Dean’s face. “Did you sustain an injury on a hunt? What about your stab wound?”

“No, no,” Dean said, feeling emotion welling up inside him; both in Cas’ concern and having him so close with what he was about to say. “Cas,” the emotion was obvious in his voice, “I-.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas said, “you don’t have to say anything-.”

Dean knew that if he didn’t say anything now then he never would and he made himself look into Cas’ eyes as he did.

“I lost our baby, Cas,” Dean said and the tears suddenly but reluctantly fell.

Cas’ mouth fell open and he leaned back to look at him better. Dean watched his eyes, blinking quickly to allow himself to see Cas through his tears. Cas’ hands left Dean’s arm as he took two steps away from him and stumbled to his right, making him hit the island and knock the glass of vodka over. It fell towards the other side and the clear liquid spread over the hob and counter.

“Oh, Dean,” he said and put his hand back onto the edge of the counter.

“I know!” Dean replied, putting his hands out and took a step towards him, quickly wiping his face and shifting. “I know I should have told you but I couldn’t face you hating me-.”

“Hating you?!” Cas blurted in disbelief.

“- or worse, not hating me. The way you understand me, I don’t deserve it, Cas. Your voicemail nearly broke my heart – I think it might have – because it was so exactly _you_ , exactly us, but I hated myself which was worse because you didn’t.”

“I could _never_ hate you, Dean,” Cas said. “This is all _my_ fault.”

Dean sobbed once. “What?” he said in shock, his brow dipped and his eyes searched Cas’ with an aggressiveness that bordered on anger. “How can you say that?”

“We should have talked about contraception, I should have thought about it.” He brought his left hand up to his forehead. “I was so caught up with the psychology of what we were doing that I forgot about the biology.” Cas looked disappointed in himself and turned to lean on the counter.

“It was me,” Dean argued as he walked towards Cas’ left side to try and see him but then stopped, not sure that he really wanted to see his face. “I brought up lube but never once thought about condoms or-.” He scoffed. “I don’t even know what other types there are!”

“But I do!” Cas said and turned to Dean, putting his hand on Dean’s face. “I’m so sorry that I did this to you, ba-.” He clamped his mouth closed and they started at each other. “I’m sorry you went through it alone.”

Dean gestured to himself. “I’m sorry that I took it away from you,” Dean said. “Charlie told me that, as painful as the process is, it’s your right to go through it, to grieve and to be there for me. And I took that away from you and I’m so sorry. I just-, the idea of telling you that I’d done that to us was too much. I was lying there, listening to the docs saying I’d probably never carry to term and-.”

Cas reached his hand out towards Dean’s neck, going to comfort him, and then he realised what he was doing and let his hand fall again.

“No,” Dean said and stepped forward, grabbing Cas’ hand and pressed it against his neck. He whimpered when Cas wrapped his hand around the skin there of his own accord and then lifted his other hand to the side of Dean’s face. “I just kept thinking about how I’d put that crap in my system and failed you.”

“Dean,” Cas said and dropped his head to touch his forehead to Dean’s, “listen to me.”

“No,” Dean said and shook his head, “you’ll forgive me-.”

“You’ve done nothing to be forgiven for,” Cas said.

“Don’t,” Dean said and leaned back to look at him. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yes,” Cas said and nodded. “We lost a baby, Dean.”

“I lost-.”

“No,” Cas interrupted and pulled Dean’s head back to touch his, “ _we_ lost _our_ baby. It was no one’s fault and I am so deeply sorry that you had to go through it alone.”

Dean closed his eyes, when he spoke his voice was soft and almost trembling, “I wanted you to shout and scream and throw me out. It would have been easier to leave.”

Cas exhaled and closed his eyes; there was no longer anything keeping them together. “I can’t do that, Dean.”

Dean nodded. “Sam knows,” he said, “I wasn’t alone.”

Cas smiled a little. “Well, that’s something,” he replied. “What happened?”

“Can I sit down? I still get tired.”

Cas leaned back. “Of course,” he said and lowered his hands then gestured to his couch. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink or something to eat?”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

Cas followed him to the couch and he sat on Dean’s left. “Have you seen a doctor since?”

Dean nodded. “I’m on iron tablets, just to keep my levels up.” He wiped his face. “Uh, Sam woke me up, said there was blood in the bathroom so he thought I’d started a period but it was everywhere, and I _mean_ everywhere. They wouldn’t let me wash it off for what seemed like hours because they said the tests and treatments were more urgent.” He went quiet. “I cried,” he admitted quietly and then looked to Cas. “You’ve weakened me, do you know that? I couldn’t keep my emotions in.”

“Is that the same way you ruined my life?” Cas said, pointedly.

Dean’s brow dipped, understanding his meaning. “But Cas, I could _not_ hide my heartbreak,” Cas’s face tensed in pain, “from my little brother. My little Sammy, Cas.” He looked ahead and shook his head.

“That’s not weakness, Dean,” Cas said.

“But it’s not strength, is it?”

“Yes, it is. Especially if you have spent you’re entire life hiding them. But it’s only lycan, Dean. It’s-.”

“Disgustingly normal?” Dean asked and they both laughed softly.

“I’m afraid so,” Cas agreed.

“After everything Sam demanded answers from me. He couldn’t be brushed off. We kinda had it out, put that together with the talk we’d had the night before, it was kinda a turning point. If it hadn’t been because of the-,” he gestured to his stomach, “-I would’ve said that it was a good thing.”

“A bitter sweet breakthrough,” Cas said.

Dean looked to Cas. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But between how guilty I felt and Sam’s prodding I panicked, withdrew and-.” He looked over Cas’ face. “I’m sorry.”

Cas leaned forward. “Sam’s prodding?”

“Sam was telling me I had to come and admit what happened, that I _had to_ , that it was a duty. He asked about our arrangement. He called it our relationship. I didn’t understand what the hell he was talking about. I mean-, yeah, even our arrangement had to be a relationship of sorts or there wouldn’t be trust but-, but not the way he meant. He had us bonded, for Christ’s sake!” Dean gestured with his arm to the window. “I felt panic and grief in one. I didn’t sign up for a relationship, neither did you. I didn’t sign up for sides of the bed, routines, TV schedules, ‘honey’ this and ‘baby’ that. It was sex, that was all!”

There was a silence between them and Dean watched Cas’ face fall.

“Maybe to begin with,” he said. “But we did talk about how this had changed for us. It was never care-free for me. I cared about you from the minute I looked down that alley and it’s only grown since.”

“Cas, I _care_ -.”

Cas waved his hand in the air dismissively as he stood and walked to his desk, Dean lifted his head to watch him. “It’s perfectly okay, Dean. I should have seen this coming. You run in the opposite direction of anything difficult and that’s fine, that’s who you are and I love who you are but I just wish-,”

Dean looked down and his head began to spin.

“- that you’d have told me all of this before.” He sighed. “I’m sorry that you had to go through losing our child alone. You may have had Sam but my being there would have been beneficial to your state of mind.”

Dean stood up as he yelled, “Will you just stop!” Cas turned to look at him. “Beneficial to me or my state of mind? Can’t you just talk normally this once and say you wanted to be there and I deprived you of that!”

“Fine!” Cas yelled back. “I wanted to be there but I can’t change that I wasn’t. I can only try to help you deal with how you feel now.”

“I don’t do feelings,” Dean retorted.

Cas shook his head. “We both know that that’s not true but that’s the problem, isn’t it? I know parts of you and your dumb-ass relationship with your feelings,” Dean’s brow raised and then lowered, “doesn’t like it. Your emotions reject me like a cancer so why don’t you just let it, Dean? Why are you here? Why really?” There were tears rolling down his cheeks by the time he got to the end of his question.

“Because I stood and looked into your eyes while that maniac had a gun to your head, Cas!” Dean pointed and Cas swallowed as he shifted on his feet. “And I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life.” Cas looked down. “And then I came home and listened to your voicemail for the first time.” Cas looked up. “I listened to that and came straight here because I wanted to give you closure and the truth. I wanted you to know that the problem was _me,_ not you.” He shook his head and lowered his hand. “It could never be you, Cas. You’re perfect. I wanted you to know that. I’m here to make sure you know that.” He let a sob out and realised he was crying again.

Cas looked from Dean to the window, seeing Dean’s car across the road. “I’ve missed you.” He looked back to Dean.

Dean hesitated and then sat down on the couch. “I started the suppressors again.”

Cas looked down. “That is understandable.”

“I missed you too,” Dean said.

Cas stepped towards him. “How do you feel?”

Dean looked to his right. “M’fine.”

Cas sat down beside him. “Don’t keep me out,” Cas said and Dean looked to him. “Please.”

Dean smiled weakly and then looked down again. “I never wanted kids,” he said. “I never thought about it, never really had a chance. I spent my childhood bringing Sam up and then puberty started. I guess that’s when you start thinking about these things. But, I never got a minute to because Benny happened and after that I never wanted to think about those things ever again.”

Cas considered what he was saying. “What about now?”

Dean shrugged and stuttered. “I-, I-, I don’t even know what to think or feel. I just feel this intense grief. How can you grieve for something that was never there?” He lowered his head into his hands. “I’m confused and tired and tense.”

“Come here,” Cas said and gestured to himself.

Dean just looked at him for a second before he said, “What?”

“Let me try to comfort you,” Cas said.

Dean scoffed. “I don’t need a hug, a hug won’t-.”

“I was your heat alpha, Dean,” Cas reminded him. “Perhaps my pheromones could make you feel better, even for a moment.” He shrugged. “Let me try.”

Dean exhaled and then tilted his head. Cas took this as consent and put his right hand on Dean’s back then waited for Dean to lean towards him before lifting his head to allow his chin to sit on Dean’s head. Dean leaned the left side of his face against Cas’ left clavicle, his entire body tense and rigid.

For the first time in what felt like forever he started to smell Cas again. He could smell the night sky, mountain air, a lazy stream running through a misty forest, honey carrying on the wind, pie on a window ledge, books piled on shelves, dust balls on heavy curtains, the warmth of bed sheets on a Saturday morning: it was like coming home.

Dean turned his nose in toward Cas’ neck just an inch and then lifted his right hand to Cas’ left side. Cas’ eyes closed and he felt a calm begin to sweep over himself; not because Dean’s scent was filing his nose – oil, pastry, leather, fire – however it was as if he’d been on alert since he’d last seen Dean in his office, as if he’d been in fear of Dean’s safety and only holding him reassured him. He lifted his left hand to cup Dean’s head and Dean’s right hand moved further around to his back.

Dean turned his nose further in towards Cas’ neck and while he felt home it was there that his feelings rested too: he’d lost a child-to-be and his relationship and while one might have been out of his control the other was completely his own fault.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas replied.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean repeated.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Cas reassured but this just hit Dean harder. He lifted both hands to Cas’ back and held him aware that he’d have to let go soon. Cas felt his desperation. “Dean, Dean, it’s okay,” he tried to reiterate.

“I’ve lost everything,” Dean said.

“Why don’t we,” Cas said and leaned back to look down at Dean, lie here for a few minutes.” Dean stared at him. “Just give me this Dean, and I’ll never ask anything of you ever again.”

Dean nodded and lay down with Cas on the couch, both kicking their shoes off, Cas with his back outward and Dean facing in, assuming the protective and vulnerable positions.

After a minute or so Dean felt heavy.

“I wish I could go back,” Dean said drowsily, “and call you from the hospital. If I could I would, in a heartbeat.”

Cas too felt fatigued. “You had Sam, at least you weren’t alone. That comforts me in part. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Can we stay like this, just a little longer?” Dean asked.

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, Dean,” Cas replied.

They both quickly fell asleep there, holding each other in comfort.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long, I've been trying to rework this chapter and tbh I'm not 100 percent happy with it but I can't seem to get it right. I apologise in advance and hopefully you'll enjoy it. There's plenty more of this lot, don't worry, we're just getting started.

Castiel woke up in response to a sorrow that he felt, but it was not his own. He opened his eyes and looked down to find Dean still holding onto him. It was dark outside and the only lights were from across the street outside – not the one directly outside Cas’ house. Somewhere in the distance a cat shrieked, however only the trash-can lid that had slid down from a wall and landed on top of where it was lying knew why.

“Dean?” Cas muttered into the darkness and ran a hand through his hair. “Dean, what’s wrong?” he asked.

He kissed Dean’s forehead and listened to his calm and heavy breathing, sensing that he was asleep. He exhaled through his nose and then settled into their sorrow.

 

It was becoming light outside when, couple of hours later, Cas woke again to find Dean quietly crying against his chest.

“Dean?” Cas questioned and looked down before Dean could catch himself.

He knew he was caught and chuckled half-heartedly as he wiped his eye. “Don’t know where it’s all coming from.”

Cas hesitated. “I think it’s me,” he admitted.

Dean looked up at him. “What d’ya mean?”

“Being here for you, my pheromones match part of the DNA we lost, it’ll both comfort and aggrieve you,” Cas explained. “If it’s too much for you-.” He began to move away.

“No,” Dean said and moved his right hand back to Cas’ side to stop him moving away. “I can handle it. Besides,” he hesitated, “it’s worth a few tears.” He looked down feeling his neck protest at the position they'd been lying in for the past few hours.

Cas cupped Dean’s face with his left hand and then slid his index finger down and lifted his chin to look at him. The darkness mostly hid his face but Cas could sense the embarrassment and hesitation Dean felt. “What is?”

Dean looked up. The light from across the street lit up most of his face with a soft white glow. It seemed to swim in his eyes but Cas couldn't really take it in because of the concern he felt. For some unknown reason, Dean's mind flashed back to Cas' office and the way Cas looked to him while Zachariah held a gun to his head and then pressed it into the side of Cas' cheek. Dean felt that fear again and Cas thought he did too. It felt like forever before Dean decided that he had to say it, if only because he owed it to the man who he almost never got to save. “Being with you.”

Cas stared down at him in that intense way that Dean knew and missed, Dean’s eyes were itching to shamefully look away however he managed to keep eye contact with Cas. Cas tried to understand where the fear that he now sensed in Dean had come from, the regret and sorrow were mixing and multiplying but the terror made Cas' heart beat faster. Cas tilted his head and Dean thought he read confusion in the expression - however dark it was - so he decided to clear it up. He leaned up and kissed him on the lips, the hard beating in Cas' chest stopped and Dean suddenly felt hurt like almost never before. It appeared to increase their shared loss and he could see the betrayed look in Cas' eyes as he sat on the office floor. He'd abandoned Cas, he'd pushed him away in the one moment that he should have reached out, he'd taken that away from him and without explanation, he'd ignored his voicemail and still would be if he hadn't decided to go with Charlie that morning or if Sam hadn't insisted on saving him. He suddenly realised just how like his father he was: cruel. He felt Cas' lips push against his just before he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said and pulled away, managing to climb over Cas and stumbling on his feet. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” He walked towards Cas’ desk.

“It’s okay,” Cas said as he sat up and turned to put his own feet on the floor and looked to Dean.

Dean walked around the back of the couch. “It’s not, it’s not okay!” Cas turned his body to watch Dean and then had to stand where he was to keep track of his movements. “I can’t just-, just cut you out of my life and then walk back in when I feel like it. That's not fair.”

Cas’ eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Is that what you were doing?” Cas walked to the left, rounding the couch to face Dean who looked at him too. “Dean, do you want to resume our relationship?”

Dean looked at this man who he’d cut out of his life for no reason other than self-loathing and saw a look of hope there. And it made him feel worse.

“I have to go,” Dean said and made to walk passed Cas to the door, but Cas stopped him with a hand on each arm. “Cas-.”

“No,” Cas said firmly, titling his head to the right when Dean looked to his left, to avoid Cas’ eye contact. “You came here for a reason-.”

Dean looked at him and Cas straightened up too. “To tell you the truth, to tell you it was me, not you.”

“Okay, but you kissed me, so what was the reason for that?”

Dean felt like the world was collapsing around him; he'd come here to draw a line in the sand, to have Cas look at him with the loathing that he felt for himself but instead Cas looked like he'd give anything for Dean to stay, anything so that Dean wouldn't abandon him again. All he wanted to do was melt into his arms and never go anywhere, but that was too hard. He didn't deserve that look or that faith, he certainly didn't deserve another chance. "Cas-," Dean pleaded, as tears choked him.

Cas exhaled, casting his eyes to the floor and then stepped back, letting his hands slip from Dean’s arms. “Fine, go,” he said and stepped around Dean, to the right, stopping beside the back of the couch and looked to the desk without seeing it. He folded his arms and closed his eyes, waiting as the hope in his chest turned foul.

Dean took a step to the door and then stopped. He thought about what Sam had said.

_You’re killing yourself._

Cas wasn’t pushing Dean away, telling him he hated him and throwing him out. It was the opposite, he’d kissed Dean back and he was trying to stop him leaving. So what the hell was he doing running away from the last chance he would get to keep the best thing that ever happened to him? He spent his childhood shadowing his dad's movements whenever he was thrown out, just waiting for a signal that he could join them again. It started off with his dad pulling the car up to where he was sitting and telling him to jump in and slowly became harder and harder to decipher - sometimes just a drink sent to where he was trying to hide or a nod in his direction. Sometimes he'd misunderstand and his dad would scream at him while he watched his little brother be dragged away from him.

There was no way of misunderstanding this situation: Cas was practically begging him to stay. What reason did he have for leaving now anyway? Cas didn't blame him for losing the baby or even pushing him away. So what the hell was he running away from, hatred, blame, disgrace? Or the complete opposite?

Dean turned to look at his back. “Yes,” he said and Cas turned to look at him. “In a perfect world I’d want you back but this isn’t a perfect world and I can’t expect you to-.”

Cas shook his head. “Shut up,” he said, he felt so empty. He'd lost everything and he was sick of it, sick of having to drag everything out of Dean as if he didn't matter, sick of being a secret, sick of feeling so much for this man and being rewarded with suffering. Sick of everything.

Dean’s brow lifted as he turned his head from right to left just slightly. “Say again?”

“This self-sacrificing attitude of yours is, _I’m sure_ , very noble. However, I’m quite tired of it.” Cas exhaled as Dean’s brow dipped. “Your attempts to _save me_ from hurt have only hurt me further, Dean.”

Dean’s face relaxed and he looked down. “That was the last thing I want-.”

Cas turned a little on his feet to face the window. “Either go or stay, Dean,” Cas said and Dean looked up. “But believe me when I say that this will be the last time it happens. If you go don’t knock on my front door again, Dean, my heart can’t take it.”

Dean hesitated, his heart hammering in his chest. “And if I don’t go?”

Cas’ brow tensed, sensing his trepidation but wondering why Dean had stopped in the middle of running away. He wasn't sure where this was going but he knew he couldn't continue the way they'd been so he took a chance. “Then it’s with conditions, Dean.”

Dean nodded, not sure where this was going but knowing that he wasn't about to let this chance go. “What would they be?”

Cas looked to Dean. “Don’t try to keep me from hurt again, as I said, it does the opposite.”

Dean nodded again before he relented, “Fair enough.”

“And I don’t want to be a secret anymore," Cas said it was a nod, as if convincing himself that he had the right to demand it.

“Way ahead of you,” Dean said. “Sam drove me here.” Cas' eyebrows lifted in surprise and remembered the way that Sam had looked at him in the court. It suddenly occurred to him that Sam knew what they'd lost before he did. Sam had lost a niece or nephew before Cas had lost a child. Dean suddenly remembered. “Oh damn,” he said and walked to the window, “I forgot about Sam.” He looked out.

“Is he still there?”

Dean nodded. “The car’s still there.” He couldn’t see anyone in the driver’s seat but that didn't mean he wasn't there. Dean looked to his left when Cas came to stand beside him. As if by magic they both realised how light it was outside, it'd happened as they spoke and neither had noticed.

Cas looked to his watch. “I need to get ready for work,” he said, looking to Dean.

Dean looked him up and down. “Can I stay?” he asked and looked out the window before he looked back to Cas. “Make you breakfast?” he added.

Cas paused and then nodded once before pointing out of the window. “Bring your brother inside, he must be hungry.”

There was a challenging element in his eyes and Dean knew what it meant: introduce me to your brother or that’s it. Time to put his money where his mouth is.

“That’s a good idea,” Dean agreed.

“I’m going to shower,” Cas said and smiled before disappearing upstairs.

Dean sat on the couch to pull his shoes on but didn’t tighten them before he exited the house feeling like he’d been hit over the head and exhaled hard. As he crossed the road and got closer to the car he smiled to himself when he saw his brother lying asleep in the back seat – his head closest to Dean – with his coat over him, and it wasn’t an unusual sight. He remembered the hundreds of times as kids they’d slept in the car, Dean would take the two front seats if it was just them but when their dad was in the car they’d share the back with Sam’s feet over Dean – unless it was particularly cold then they’d hug together but wouldn’t tell anyone, even now.

Dean exhaled in amusement and then rapped on the window, startling Sam awake. “Dean?” he said instinctively and looked to the driver’s seat and then turned his head to the left and looked up at Dean.

Dean motioned for him to get out and then looked around in the still dead street, however a few cars had already gone from their spaces.

Sam moved his coat to the front passenger seat and opened the back door, asking, “What happened?” before he’d even put his left foot on the road and ran a hand through his hair as he stood up.

“You hungry?” he asked and turned away from Sam, walking back across the road, smirking to himself.

Sam closed the door, locked it, followed him across the road and then through the door as a woman was leaving in her car behind him. He almost tripped on the lip of the screen door while Dean stood at the door and gestured to the peg as he slipped his own shoes off again.

Sam looked down at them and realised they hadn’t been tied before he took his coat off while Dean disappeared into the room to their right. He looked up the stairs as he hung his jacket up when he heard running water then slipped his shoes off, also hearing movement from where Dean had disappeared to.

Upstairs, Cas was washing his hair and stopped, bubbles falling down the side of his face. He exhaled into the steam and thought about the past few weeks, never mind the past few hours. He felt the arm around his front, the gun against his temple and the loss somewhere in his gut. He closed his eyes, took a breath and tasted soap. He spat it out and tilted his head up to fill his mouth with water then spat it back out and wiped his mouth. He never thought he'd taste water again and he never thought he'd see Dean again. He smiled and let himself hurt, knowing that he'd get through it. They both would.

Sam walked into the living-room, looking right to left; the couch was in front of the TV and facing the window, there was a desk in front of a side window looking at the short fence that separated Castiel’s house from his neighbour’s, the kitchen, which bordered the far corner of the open-plan room, had an island as well as patio doors that opened into the garden in the far left corner. There was also a closed door to the left of the door at the end of the hall which Sam could only assume was a pantry – which it wasn’t, it was the basement.

Dean was stood with his back to the room and looking in the open refrigerator. “Waffles?” He’d moved the glass and used a dish towel to crudely wipe up the spilled vodka.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam said and walked to the island where he leaned his hands on the counter. “Dean, what happened?” He got a whiff of spirits and wondered if they'd gotten drunk all night, however Dean didn't seem hungover.

Dean took eggs and milk from the fridge and put them on the island. “We talked.”

“You told him?” Dean nodded. “Does he blame you?”

Dean was looking in the cupboards and found flour, baking powder, salt, caster sugar and oil quicker than he expected and put them on the island too. He shook his head. “No, he doesn’t.” He found a mixing bowl and put that on the island too and began roughly measuring the dry ingredients into it. “Yeah, I told him and he understood.” He nodded. “Like he always does.”

“Wow,” Sam said then leaned on the island as Dean tipped milk into the mixture then broke two eggs into it and grabbed a wooden spoon to mix it with. Sam watched his brother barely hesitate to find utensils or ingredients and thought he'd never seen him so comfortable.  

“I’m sorry for leaving you out there all night, Sammy.” He put the bowl down and turned the waffle maker on, Sam picked up the bowl and mixed it for him as he sprayed oil on the maker. “I didn’t mean to, we started talking and it got emotional and-.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam interrupted and put the bowl down when Dean approached the island again, Dean picked it up and kept mixing, waiting for the lumps to go. “Really, it is. I’m just glad he doesn’t blame you.”

“Me too,” Dean said and then turned to put some of the mixture in the waffle maker.

He made enough for the three of them and put the coffee maker on.

“You’d make a good wife one day,” Sam said as Dean plated up the waffles.

“Shut up,” Dean said and Sam laughed while Dean began pouring coffee. Neither of them heard the soft footsteps on the stairs.

Sam asked, “What happens now?” Dean’s brow dipped as he put coffee down in front of Sam and put the flour, sugar, salt, oil and baking powder away. Sam poured milk into his coffee. “What does it mean for you two?”

“It means,” Cas said as he walked into the room in dress pants and an open shirt, “things are going to change.”

The pair looked at him and then Sam glanced to Dean.

“Like you two meeting properly,” Dean said and opened the fridge to put the milk and eggs away.

Sam put his coffee down and turned towards Cas as he stopped beside him and put his hand out. “I’m Sam, Dean’s brother.”

Cas took the offered hand. “Hello, Sam,” he said. “I’m Castiel, Dean’s…” He trailed off as Dean put the dirty utensils in the sink, deciding not to try and figure out Cas’ dishwasher.

Sam turned to look at Dean and Cas looked too, as Dean turned to look at them both, seeing them expectant. “What?” he asked.

“You wanna finish that sentence?” Sam asked, gesturing to Cas with his head.

“You wanna eat those, he has to go to work,” he said and gestured to Cas with his head himself and then lifted his coffee cup.

Sam exhaled and they released their hold on each other before he handed Cas the untouched cup of coffee.

“Well regardless,” Cas said and smiled as Dean quickly turned and grabbed the milk from the fridge and held it out for him, “it’s nice to finally meet you.” He poured some and Dean took the milk, holding out a spoon in return and Cas smiled. “Thanks.”

Dean put the milk back then took the spoon from him and put it in the sink as Sam spoke.

“Instead of running out of the bunker, you mean?” Sam asked and took a forkful of waffle.

Cas looked down embarrassed while Dean looked between them with a confused look on his face.

“Yes,” Cas said. “I’m sorry you had to sleep in your car-.”

“My car,” Dean interrupted, speaking with his mouth full.

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “I’m used to it.”

Cas began eating his own waffles. “Well,” he said and chewed before speaking again, “for future reference, I have a guest room.” He looked pointedly at Dean. “Don’t wait to be invited in.”

“I fell asleep!” Dean defended. “I made breakfast, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry that I don’t have time to eat any more.” He began buttoning his shirt up. “The shit hit the fan yesterday.”

Sam looked between them worriedly, having heard from Charlie about what Cas went through. “I’m sorry about that,” Sam said and Cas nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m sure they’d understand if you need a couple of days-.”

Cas shook his head. “I can’t. There’s too much to do and-,” he inhaled, thinking about Zachariah’s blood and brains on his window, “I need to-.” He inhaled again and looked down as he closed his eyes.

“Sam,” Dean said and Sam looked. “Could you, uh, load the dishwasher?”

Sam nodded and rounded the island as Dean rounded towards Cas who walked away towards the couch and leaned on the back of it. He put his right hand on Cas’ back and looked at the left side of him. “Maybe Sam’s right, maybe you shouldn’t go, it’s too soon.”

“There’s too much to do,” Cas said softly.

“Then work from home,” Dean said. “You shouldn’t go back there.” He used his left hand to cup Cas’ face and made him look at him. “No one expects you to go back so soon.”

“What’ll happen to his daughter?” Cas asked.

“Social services will probably review the family, and see if anyone is fit to take care of her, if not and there’s no other next of kin then she’ll go into care.”

Cas lowered his head and thought about his own experiences in care. “That would be unfortunate,” he said.

“She might find someone who’d care about her like you found your parents,” Dean said. “But you don’t need to push yourself like this.”

“I need to go back,” Cas said, “I need to do it now or I never will.”

Dean nodded, he could understand that. He leaned forward and said quietly, “If you need me, call me and I will come and get you, okay?” Cas nodded and Dean straightened up, letting his hand fall from Cas’ face.

Sam had been rinsing the utensils and putting them in the dishwasher as he went. He was also watching them, averting his eyes whenever he thought he would be caught, however they could both feel his eyes on them. Cas knew that Dean would struggle with being open about them in front of Sam and while he no longer wanted to be a secret he knew that Dean’s aversion to showing his weaknesses was a completely different issue and he could still understand it. He also knew that years of behaving and thinking the same way was not going to change overnight and so he threw him a lifeline – or perhaps it was more throwing him in the water in the first place – and leaned forward to kiss him.

Dean closed his eyes to the kiss he never thought he’d feel again and then remembered Sam was there so pulled out of the kiss by letting his head fall. He pursed his lips together and swallowed as Cas looked to Sam who looked away quickly and then opened the dishwasher to put things inside.

Cas walked to the counter and picked up his coffee, draining it. “Maybe I can be late today,” he said and continued eating his food, sharing a smile with Sam – Sam’s said that he needed to bear with his brother, that he was trying, and Cas’ assured him that he knew and he would.

“Since Dean won’t answer me,” Sam pushed and Dean looked to him, “are you two together?”

“Sam!” Dean exclaimed and Sam shrugged as Dean approached the counter, on Cas’ left side.

“As I said,” Cas started, “things will change.” He gestured to the sink. “The faucet.”

“Oh!” Sam said and turned to turn the water off and shut the dishwasher, he missed Dean and Cas sharing a look; Dean read his expression clearly, yes he’d brought Sam inside but what happened next was still up to him and it could change everything.

He drained his coffee. “Yes,” Dean said and looked down at Cas before he looked at his little brother as Sam turned to look back to him, “we are together, Sam.” He held out his cup. “Put some in there for me.”

Sam took the cup with a smile.

Dean turned to look at Cas. “Do you want more coffee…" He swallowed, not just coffee. "Hon?”

“Yes, please,” Cas and Dean picked up his cup and held it out to his brother who smiled as he took it. He turned and the pair looked to each other and smiled. Sam turned back to see them smiling at their plates.

 

Later, after breakfast, Sam stood with his jacket and shoes back on in the living room looking at the pictures on Cas’ wall. Dean entered the living room from the hall fixing his jacket on his shoulders and sat on the couch to put his shoes back on.

“Do you know who these people are?” Sam asked, over his shoulder.

Dean turned his head to the left to look and then leaned down to tie his right shoe. “His parents,” he replied. “He was adopted.”

“Really?” Sam said and looked over the pictures. “They look happy.”

Dean stood up, padding his feet to make sure they were tight enough and then came to stand beside Sam. “Yeah, they do,” he said. “I wish we coulda had that.”

Sam looked to Dean in mild surprise and then he nodded. “So do I,” he agreed. “But y’know, this kind of makes up for it.”

Cas’ footsteps could be heard on the stairs this time.

“What,” Dean looked at him, “standing looking at photographs?”

“No,” Sam said and looked back to the photo, “us.” He turned as Cas came in, pulling his trench coat over his suit jacket. “I was just looking at your family.”

Cas picked up his briefcase from the floor beside the door and checked in his coat pocket for his keys which jingled as he smiled. “I wish they were here.” Sam and Dean looked down. “I think you would have liked them,” Cas added looking at Dean who looked up at him. “I have to leave.”

“We've got a job,” Sam said.

“We do?” Dean asked and Sam nodded so Dean considered it had something to do with the phone call Sam answered as Dean was walking away from the car the day before.

“Alright,” Cas said, followed the brothers out of his house and turned at the door to lock it.

Dean looked at Sam as they stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and widened his eyes, gesturing to the car.

“I’m going to start the car,” Sam said as Cas turned around and put his keys in his pocket, “it was nice to finally meet you,” he directed at Cas.

“And you,” Cas said with a smile as he walked down the steps towards Dean, Dean turned back to see Cas gone and then turned to see him walking to his car. He caught him up and his mind told him that it wasn’t that he wanted Dean to go, he probably didn’t realise that Sam had gone to leave them alone.

“Wait up,” Dean said and stopped in front of Cas as he turned to look at him expectantly but now he didn’t know what to say. However Cas got there first, “So, we’re together?”

“Not getting cold feet, are you?” Dean asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Are you?” Cas shot back as the _Impala_ 's driver’s door closed.

Dean looked over his face, his tongue coming up and pulling his bottom lip in with it, then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

The _Impala’s_ engine roared to life.

“That’s not the same as wanting-.”

“I do,” Dean interrupted. “I do want this, I do. I’m just telling you that losing you hurt me. I know that _I’m_ the one that did that, but I just want to put it into words, what you mean to me.” He turned to look along the street behind him, trying to be casual about it but just looking nervous.

“You mean a lot to me too, Dean,” Cas said and Dean looked back to him then down, embarrassed. “When will I see you again?”

Sam was sitting in the driver’s seat and rolled the window down, looking at the both of them.

“This case is in-state so it won’t take very long,” Dean aid.

“Would you be free to have dinner with me?” Cas asked and Dean looked to him.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me on a date?” he asked, barely able to believe how much his luck had changed since he walked in the house the day before.

“If that’s what you want,” Cas stated. “I think it would be a good start.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll call you later? See where I am with this case.”

“Sounds good,” Cas said with a nod and a smile.

“But hey,” Dean said, “don’t get handsy, I’m not that kinda guy.”

“I’ll keep my distance,” Cas said seriously.

Sam was watching them smile at each other. “Kiss him already,” he muttered under his breath.

“Don’t go too far,” Dean replied.

“I won’t,” Cas promised.

“Kiss him!” Sam muttered again, more insistent, as they continued to smile at each other, barely able to contain their smiles. “He’s late for work, he’s not standing there for his health.”

“Are you _going_ to kiss me?” Cas asked, smiling wider when Dean laughed and then suddenly felt doubt. "Or am I reading this situation wrong again?"

“No, you're right. I'm just-, I’m working up to it,” he replied and Cas laughed too. “Sam’s there, watching.”

“I know,” Cas said, indicating that he also understood how that would make him feel. “I thought kissing you inside would have made it easier.”

“It did a little, but a lot has happened this morning, give me a second,” he said, feeling embarrassed.

“I’ll give you as long as you need,” Cas assured.

“I know you will,” Dean replied and looked over Cas’ face. “That’s what makes it even easier.” The sun was in Cas’ neighbor’s garden, behind Dean, but the light was on Cas’ face and Dean smiled as it lit up his eyes. “Did I tell you you look good?”

“No,” Cas replied, smiling and looking down, abashed.

“Come on,” Sam said. “Stop eye-fucking.”

Dean smiled, watching him, not sure he'd ever felt so lucky. After everything Cas had done for him he was sure that he could find it in him to kiss his partner in front of his brother. Besides, he'd have to get used to that if he wanted to keep Cas in his life and he did, with everything he had. “Well you do,” Dean said and shuffled on his feet. “I’m gonna do it now and then walk away.” He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Okay,” Cas replied and smiled at him while Dean stepped forward and kissed him as he put his right hand on Cas’ face.

“Finally,” Sam said and looked forward, along the street.

Dean made to pull away but then decided to kiss him again before taking a step back. “I’ll speak to you later,” he said and Cas nodded with a smile. Dean then winked and turned, walking towards the car to see Sam in the driver’s seat. “Hey!” he said and Sam looked. “Out.” He pointed ahead of himself, indicating the passenger's seat.

Sam rolled his eyes and then slid into the front passenger seat as Cas got in his own car, turned the engine over and pulled the car out, taking a left and stopping alongside them. He rolled down the passenger side window and leaned across to talk to them.

“Be careful,” he said and looked between them, “both of you.” He looked at Dean. “Don’t get shot.” He smiled and then drove off.

Sam looked to Dean and saw him trying not to smile. “What?” he asked.

Dean looked to him and then put the car in gear. “Nothing,” he said, realising how happy he was just to hear Cas say that again. “Thanks for making me come here, Sammy,” he said and looked to him.

Sam wasn’t prepared for that so he hesitated before he said, “You were the one who decided to come.”

“You made me listen to that message. I came here for closure and I got him back.” He pulled the car out. “Just, thank you.”

Sam nodded. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can buy lunch.”

Dean laughed and nodded. “Deal.”

>><< 

Cas parked his car and exhaled nervously as he took the elevator up to his floor. He expected to find chaos when the doors opened however it was quiet with a few police officers standing at either side of the corridor where it turned off to his office. When he got there he noticed the desks were empty and there was tape over his door but the officers put their hands out to stop him getting any closer.

“Sorry, buddy,” one said, he had ‘enforcer written on his back and an ‘A’ on his upper arms while the other officer had a ‘B’ instead.

“That’s my office,” Cas said and gestured.

“Your boss is just along there,” he gestured further down the corridor but on the other side of the hall.

Cas walked along, there was a thin glass window down the side of one of the doors and he caught sight of Becky sitting at a large meeting table on her own so he opened the door.

He found Chuck and Harry standing on the other side of the room looking through boxes, seemingly for something specific. They all looked to him.

“Sir!” Becky said and stood.

“Castiel,” Chuck said and walked towards him. “How are you?”

Cas nodded. “The hospital said I’m fine,” he said and gestured back towards his office. “They said I’m not allowed in.”

“Yeah,” Chuck said. “It’s still a crime scene.”

“He killed himself?” Cas asked.

“He had a gun to your head,” Harry said.

“But I’m fine,” Cas said.

“Sir,” Becky said and looked down.

“What?” Cas said and looked from her to Chuck.

“Why did he have a gun in the first place?” Harry said and they all looked at him.

Cas looked from him to Becky who looked down and then he looked to Chuck. “What, do they-?” He looked back along the corridor. “Do they-?” He looked down. “Did he come with the intention of using it on me?”

“They don’t know,” Chuck said. “Have you given your full statement yet?”

Cas shook his head slowly as he tied to take everything in. “I-. They told me to call when the hospital released me but then I had things to deal with. Personal things.”

“Dean?” Chuck asked and when Cas looked to him he realised what he’d said and closed his eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I just-.” He shook his head. “No. Sorry.” He looked over Cas. “But you should go home, you don’t need to be here.”

“I need to be here,” Cas said. “I’m sorry I’m late-.”

“Don’t be,” Chuck said. “I still think you should go home.”

“If I go home I’ll think about it,” Cas said and gestured to his head. “It’ll make it worse. I need to be _doing_ something.”

Chuck looked to Becky, silently asking for her recommendation, as Cas looked to the piled of his files that seemed to have been piled up and boxed without any kind of system and he realised that’s what they were trying to remedy. Becky looked over Cas and then looked to Chuck before she nodded, her expression still worried and suggested that they needed to keep their eyes on him.

“I’m going to get you a new office,” Chuck said and Cas nodded as he walked around them and put his briefcase on the table. “This is just for right now.”

“The police just stuffed everything together,” Becky explained and sat back down.

“We’re sorting it,” Harry said.

Cas took his jacket off and put it on the chair but Harry picked it up and moved to the peg near the door. “Thank you,” he said and then turned to Chuck. “I-,” he hesitated, looking between them all and then looked back to Chuck, “I don’t think I can work in that office again, even when the police leave,” he said.

Chuck paused and then nodded once. “I think that’s fair. We’ll figure something out.”

Cas nodded and then looked across to Becky. “Where are we?”

>><<

Sam followed Dean out of the cop shop late that afternoon and back to the car.

“Should we get dinner?” he asked.

“No,” Dean said. “I’ll drop you at the bunker before I go home.”

“Well, you gotta eat,” Sam said.

“I will,” Dean replied and they each got in their sides of the car.

“Right, so why don’t we get pizza-.”

“Sam, I can’t,” he said.

“I thought we were gonna try-.”

“We are,” Dean said, looking at Sam and then sighed, knowing that he was just going to have to say it. “I just-, Cas and me are gonna have dinner.”

“Oh,” Sam said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because,” Dean said and started the car, “this is new to me, okay?”

Sam’s face fell to serious. “It’s me, isn’t it?” Dean looked at him, a confused expression on his face. “It’s me that’s causing the problem, right?”

“What? Sammy, no-.” Dean watched the road.

“You said that you wanted to keep the two parts of your life separate but then you say that our relationship _is_ work so it has to be me. You couldn’t even kiss him earlier.”

“I-. That wasn’t-,” Dean tried to laugh it off but then his face hardened, “You-. All I said was I couldn’t get dinner.”

“You could have said that you were getting dinner _with_ Cas, it’s that simple. He understands now but how long is he gonna take it, Dean?”

“I know!” Dean shouted. “He won’t have to any longer, okay?” I’m just-, I’m not a natural at this but I’m gonna give it everything I got because he’s-, he’s different. But I’m barely off of the start line, gimme a minute.”

“You nervous?” Sam asked.

“About what?” Dean asked, glancing to him.

“Your date,” Sam stated as if it should be obvious.

“We’ve had dinner before,” Dean said and drove the car away.

“This is different though, this isn’t a date with the guy getting you through heats, this is a guy you’re dating.”

Dean looked at him, his brow tensing before he looked back to the road. “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “But we’d be starting again.”

“Can you really _start again_? As if you don’t have this history? This has been going on for a year, Dean, then the-, the loss,” Dean shifting in his seat and looked to the side, “that’s still raw. You have too much of a connection to be starting fresh.”

Dean exhaled. “What does that mean? Do I need to shave, get a new pair of pants, join the gym? What?”

Sam scoffed. “What?” he laughed.

“Well, if it’s not new, if it’s not attraction how do I fix it?”

“Dean, I never said that, not even close.”

“Well, stop speaking Latin, you’re making me anxious!” he said and Sam watched his chest rise and fall faster.

“I’m sorry. I just meant that this is a new level for you two, that’s all. You might have things to talk about, I wanted you to be prepared for the heavy subjects: your relationship, contraception-.”

“I started the suppressors again,” Dean blurted out.

Sam stared at him. “What, why?”

Dean shrugged. “I panicked. I pushed Cas away and never expected to see him again, so I-, I panicked.”

Sam exhaled, taking in the honest answer and knew it was to be expected. “Does he know?” Dean nodded his head. “This is why I asked if you’re nervous.”

“Well, I am now!” Dean said and pulled the car to an abrupt stop at the side of the road.

Sam looked at the apartment building “Yeah, I got that.”

Dean looked to Sam then to his own apartment building, having driven there automatically instead of driving to the bunker.

He exhaled. “Want to stay at mine?”

“Yeah,” Sam said and they got out of the car and he looked over the hood at his brother. “Unless you need me out of the way?” he asked suggestively.

“Shut up,” Dean said and closed his door to Sam laughing.

>><< 

A couple of hours later Dean pulled the car to a stop in front Cas’ house. He looked around at the street realising that he’d never come along this street and found a car in front of Cas’ house – having been too anxious to notice when Sam drove them – but he couldn’t think why. He pushed the horn and then jumped wondering if he should have done that in such a heavily residential area.

He got out of the car, closing his door quietly and looked around noticing Cas' neighbor sitting with his bulldog and waved, partly in greeting and partly in apology. The man waved back just as Cas opened his front door and Dean turned to round the car.

He slowly smiled when he saw Cas and let his eyes drift over him; he was wearing dark jeans, a purple shirt, khaki bomber jacket and black military boots. Cas noticed Dean looking at him as he got onto the sidewalk while Cas walked down his garden path and he worried if he looked ridiculous.

“Should I change?” he asked, he’d had the jacket for a while but never worn it, he’d even had to take the tag off of it.

Dean shook his head as Cas stopped in front of him. “No way, I like it,” he said and Cas smiled as their eyes met.

Dean suddenly ran a hand through the back of his hair wondering if Sam had been wrong; Dean had spent a long time trying to find something to wear however Sam had convinced him he hadn’t needed to impress and thrown him out fifteen minutes ago.

He looked down himself. “I swear I tried,” he said and looked up again. “Sam got annoyed at me and banished me from the apartment.”

Cas smiled. “You look attractive, you always look do,” he said.

Dean chuckled nervously. “Do you-?” He swallowed. “Do you know where you want to go yet?”

“There’s an Italian place I’d like to try, if that is agreeable to you?”

“Sure,” Dean said and nodded before turning and, in a panic, opening the passenger door for Cas and then, realising what he was doing, he left the door open and walked around to the driver’s side. He looked up and down the dark street – the light outside Cas’ house still the only one out – and closed his eyes, wordlessly berating himself.

He got in next to Cas and they smiled at each other before Cas gave Dean directions to the restaurant which was under ten minutes away and they pulled up. Dean got out slowly, letting Cas get out on his own this time.

The outside of the restaurant – _Gino’s_ – was painted black and seemed to be newly opened.

“Are we under-dressed?” Dean asked as he looked inside at the people in suits and dresses.

Cas pulled the door open for him. “I would say we have an adequate amount of clothes on,” he said.

Dean laughed once and went inside. “Yeah, I guess we do,” he agreed and turned to Cas when he stepped in behind him. “I meant we’re a bit casual in comparison.” He gestured around.

Cas looked around the room and then back to them. “I guess,” he said.

However, the waiter didn’t seem to notice and showed them to a table for two in the corner so that they were sitting perpendicular to each other, Cas looking outwards.

“Can I get you any drinks?” the waiter asked, his accent was not Italian but South African and he put menus down in front of each of them.

Cas pointed out a white wine on the menu without much hesitation however Dean asked for water and the waiter left with a nod.

“Driving,” Dean said by way of explanation to Cas.

“We should have taken a cab,” Cas said.

Dean shook his head. “Don’t _need_ to drink,” he said. “M’not my father.”

A waitress approached the table with a jug of water with she put down in the middle and then used her now free hand to take one of the small glasses from inside the other and put them down in front of each of them. As she left their waiter returned with Cas' glass of wine and placed it in front of Castiel then left. Dean poured some water into the glass and wondered why it was just the right size for a nip of whisky, he looked to the waiter as he put the jug down and wondered if he was taunting him.

The pair looked at the menus and took a few minutes before they were asked if they wanted to order. Dean ordered an Italian base pizza with chiritzo, peppers and onions while Cas ordered linguini before surrendering their menus to the waiter.

“How was your case?” Cas asked when they were alone.

Dean exhaled. “We had to hand it over to state cops because there’s concerns that the bounty is mentally ill and dangerous so they have to re-evaluate the case and then reassign it, depending on what they find.

“Really?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re trained but we have to wait for the re-eval before we can start again.”

Cas looked at him, more interested. “Why didn’t that happen for Zachariah?”

Dean paused. “There was no history of mental illness for him. That’s what me and Sam found today, that’s why they’re doing the re-eval. If Zachariah had surrendered to me and Charlie we would have had to call the cops rather than take him in ourselves.” Cas nodded as he took a drink and Dean swallowed before he asked, “Are you okay?”

Cas’ eyes moved back to him and he put his glass back down. “I’m fine.” He played with the stem with his left hand.

Dean tilted his head as Cas smiled quickly and looked to the stem, Dean put his right hand out on the table and gently took Cas’ hand from the glass, making him look up. “Well, that’s just not true.”

Cas looked to where their hands were now connected and watched Dean stroke his right thumb over the back of his hand.

“I know what it’s like,” Dean said, “to have a gun to your head.”

“You must be somewhat desensitised to it, in a way,” Cas defended. “I don’t mean that what happened was worse but until that moment I’d never been exposed to that kind of violence. I don’t go to work expecting that that’s a possibility, I’m an accountant, you choose to be a hunter.” Cas looked down, trying to calm himself.

Dean looked around before he shuffled to his left more, to be closer to Cas who looked to him, and when Dean spoke it was more hushed. “When I was seven years old my dad took me and Sam on a case and left us in a car by the side of the road. Sam really needed a leak but it was freezing outside, eventually he couldn’t hold it so I took him into the woods.” Dean paused. “Sam was three but he wanted to prove he was a ‘big boy’ so I turned my back thinking he was gonna dribble all over his pants and stink but he wanted privacy so I gave it to him.” He paused again, his mouth open as if the memory threatened to halt the entire story. “And then I heard a gun cock.”

“You knew what that sounded like at seven years old?”

“At four,” Dean corrected as if that was nothing. “I spun around and Dad had a gun to Sam’s head.”

“What!” Cas said loudly and then they looked around while people began to look. “Sorry,” he said and leaned into Dean. “Why?”

“To teach us a lesson,” Dean said. “To teach us never to turn out back, even for a second.” Dean looked to the table. “You know, even when we realised it was Dad the fear didn’t disappear. You’d think that once he knew it was his dad he’d be relieved, not… He hadn’t got himself out yet and he peed himself in fear.”

“He was three,” Cas said.

“Yeah, exactly,” Dean said and nodded. “And he knew what that sound meant. He shouldn’t have known what a gun was or what it could do. He should have seen his dad’s face and felt protected but he didn’t. He knew, we both knew. So, to an extent, I get it. And you’re _not_ okay.”

Cas turned his hand and took Dean’s in his. “It was a double shock because one moment it was any other day and then suddenly there was a gun to my head _and_ you were there. I honestly don’t know which shocked me more.”

Dean gently squeezed his hand, lifting his left to join it. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I never wanted those two worlds to mix but instead they-.” He exhaled hard and shook his head.

“They collided,” Cas replied.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, they did.”

“That wasn’t our fault, Dean,” Cas said, ready to absolve Dean of another instance where he blamed himself for events beyond his control.

“I know that,” Dean surprised him by saying and nodded. “Deep down, somewhere it’s there. But the fact that I pushed you away and then that happened-,” he stuttered, “my instinct tells me if I hadn’t done that – pushed you away – then that wouldn’t have happened. _I_ put you in the firing lane. Literally!”

“Dean,” Cas squeezed his hand momentarily, “he didn’t know you were coming for him that morning, he wasn’t in a panic. He came to my office that morning of his own volition, he didn’t run in brandishing a gun, he just knocked and walked in, in his own time, his gun concealed. I don’t know when he planned to show the gun but he wasn’t there to pass the time of day nor was he there because he felt he was being chased. He had no idea you were on his heels-.”

“We weren’t!” Dean interrupted. “It wasn’t even my case, it was Charlie’s, she just wanted someone to ride with her and I volunteered. It wasn’t a red ball-.”

“A what?”

“A red ball, a-.”

They were interrupted when the waitress brought their food to the table, along with garlic bread, and they let their hands break apart before they began to eat.

Dean spoke calmer when he resumed the subject. “A red ball is a case that takes priority, either because they have the resources to flee the state or even the country. If they have histories of random violence, a mental illness, kids-. Any reason that they could pose a threat to the public, themselves or dependents, spouses, or if they might run. All of those go to the top of the pile and the police have to assess them, only certain levels of bounty hunters can work the cases, they have to have the right training. Zachariah was not a red ball; he had a dependent but there was a custody agreement, they were on good terms so there was no risk of snapping because he might never see her again.” He shook his head. “There was no record of violence, no missing registered guns, no criminal connections, he wasn’t a flight risk. Nothing. Charlie just wanted a job that day and she wanted company, I wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t been in the bunker when she mentioned it and I had nothing on.”

He exhaled and then looked around, deciding he should probably try to eat with cutlery and so picked them up.

“I’m grateful that you _were_ there,” Cas replied.

“I think another omega would have had the same calming effect on him while Charlie being another alpha seemed to exacerbated the situation. Maybe someone else could have stopped-.”

“I meant that I’m glad that, if the outcome had been different,” Cas paused and looked to Dean, “I would have grateful that your face was the last thing I’d have seen.”

Dean looked from him to the piece of pizza on his fork and then looked to Cas. “How can you just say that?”

“Yesterday, I had lost you and my life flashed before my eyes, after which you gave me a second chance. I might not get another chance to tell you.”

Dean swallowed. “You’re the one who gave me a second chance,” he said. “More than that, a fifth, sixth, seventh chance.”

“I am happy with you,” Cas said, “and miserable without you.” He stared at him. “It’s as simple as that to me.” Dean smiled and Cas’ face changed to worry. “Was that too much?”

Dean shook his head. “No,” he replied and finally put the piece of pizza in his mouth and chewed. It tasted spicy and the tomato sauce was juicy while the cheese was savoury and thick. He hummed in response to its taste. He then looked to Cas’ anxious face and smiled before shaking his head ahead then reach out his left hand and cupped Cas’ face briefly.

Cas smiled and felt the anxiety fade before he looked down and stuck his fork into his pasta, twisting it to gather food on his fork.

“How was your job today?” Dean asked cautiously.

“The police still have a cordon up so we’re in a meeting room right now but I told my boss that I need a new office.”

Dean nodded. “That’s reasonable. What did he say?”

“He agreed,” Cas said and Dean nodded again before Cas put the pasta in his mouth, the cheese sauce was thick and creamy and he nodded in approval.

“Was it chaos?” Dean asked and put more pizza in his mouth.

“It was a shock, the police went through what they needed and then just dumped our files in the meeting room, out of order and some papers were shoved in the wrong files so we had to go through every single file and every single piece of paper in each file.”

“Wow,” Dean said.

“My boss was helping us, I think he felt obligated. Or perhaps he was also keeping an eye on my assistant.” Dean lifted his head up in question since his mouth was full. “I suspect they are an item. She came to the hospital with me.”

“I’m sorry that wasn’t me,” Dean said and then added, “I’m sure it’ll get better. Once the police leave and you get a new office and all the files are back in the right order it might feel more normal, at least around you.”

They switched to conversation that steered away from their jobs and finished their meal. Cas had another glass of wine and Dean asked for a black coffee.

Eventually they left the restaurant and back to Dean’s car, Dean let Cas open his own door this time and they talked and laughed as Dean drove them back to Cas’ house.

“How did Sam react?” Cas asked as they pulled into his street, Dean knew where he needed to park purely due to the one light that didn’t work, the space was free.

Dean opened his mouth and then laughed. “He got me all nervous saying that this was a whole new level, that we’d have things to talk about.”

Cas’ face became serious. “You don’t want to talk-?”

“No, I do,” Dean said, looking from the road to Cas and back again. “But I just wanted to go out and have dinner with you first. Just be with you again.”

Cas smiled and reached over to rub his left hand on Dean’s knee. “You don’t have to be nervous,” Dean looked to the contact and then to Cas again, “come inside and we’ll talk.”

Dean smiled too. “Okay, good,” he said and nodded.

Cas let go of his knee and they turned away from each other, Dean checking the road before he got out of the car. Dean stopped on the second step of the porch and looked around, he was surprised to see Mr Jacobi lift his beer in greeting so he lifted his hand to acknowledge it then turned when he heard Cas’ door open and followed him inside.

They smiled to each other as they took their jackets off but when Cas went inside and Dean hung his up he paused, inhaling nervously before he followed him inside.

Cas turned as he walked to see Dean look around, clearly anxious. “Don’t be nervous,” Cas said as he sat on the couch, “we don’t have to talk about anything,” Dean stood in the spot next to him, “but our history tells me that ‘we’re together’ won’t be sufficient.”

Dean laughed once and then sat down beside him. “Just gonna go for the jugular, huh?”

Cas turned to his right to try and face Dean. “Baby-.” He stopped and looked down. “I apologise.”

“It’s okay,” Dean said and took Cas’ right hand in his left and rested them on his left leg, “I like it when you call me that.” He turned his hand and intertwined their fingers.

“You do?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded and looked at him. “Yeah, I do,” he replied softly.

Cas smiled. “I like it when you call me honey,” he said, just as quietly.

Dean smiled and his eyes roamed Cas’ face and yet Cas was confused: he was drawn into Dean’s touch into his smell, but just the day before he’d never thought he’d see him again, just yesterday he’d found out that they’d lost a baby.

Dean looked into Cas’ eyes and thought about how different Cas was looking back at him now compared to in his office after Zachariah killed himself. He never wanted Cas to look at him like that ever again, he always wanted this look, this feeling. He couldn’t help himself, he leaned forward, slowly at first, and then surged to kiss him. Dean pulled Cas’ hand towards him and Cas’ didn’t resist, moving that hand to Dean’s face and Dean put his now free hand on his side. As they kissed Dean pressed his right hand on Cas’ face and then ran it over Cas’ right thigh.

Dean kissed down to his neck, his face tensed in pain thinking how he couldn’t believe that he’d almost lost him forever. Cas exhaled, loving the way that Dean touched him; desperate yet still tender. He ran the fingers of his right hand through Dean’s hair, fully aware that this was not talking or a healthy way to move forward but when Dean’s left hand tucked under his t-shirt and moved around his side and onto his back he couldn’t help but close his eyes and thank God that he’d come back to him.

However, when Dean was gently urging him onto his back he knew they had to stop.

“Wait,” Cas said and Dean pulled back. “This is too soon, I can’t-.”

Dean’s eyes closed tight and he scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said and Cas expected him to run out of the front door again and so was surprised when Dean rounded the couch and began pacing the area between it and the kitchen island. “I’m sorry, Cas, you’re right that was far too fast.” Cas stood and rounded the couch too. “I just-. Everything about you is familiar to me.” Cas’ brow dipped. “Your voice, your eyes, your lips. My body, my head, my feelings, it all just knows you. But I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Dean, it’s okay,” Cas said.

“It’s not. Sam, he was saying that this is a new level and I said it wasn’t, that we’d be starting again but he asked me if we could ever do that.” He was gesturing wildly with his arms and looked anywhere except at Cas. “He was right, we can’t start again from the beginning, as if we haven’t been through what we have, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to erase everything-.”

“We don’t have to,” Cas said and stepped towards him putting his hands out to try and stop Dean throwing his arms around and that made him look to Cas. “But, baby, you just had a miscarriage,” Dean looked down, “your body needs time to recover and so does your mind.”

“I know,” Dean said, softening a little.

Cas lifted his head and then lowered his hands again. “I understand everything, I really do, but it still hurt, you cutting me out and what happened. It wasn’t my body but it’s my loss too.”

“I know that,” Dean said with a nod. “I’m sorry, I get that.”

“We can’t ignore it, it did happen, you did push me away and we’re both hurting. That’s why I need the changes I told you about.” Dean nodded. “No more self-sacrificing actions,” Dean shook his head, “and I’m through being a secret.” Dean nodded. “I understood but I can’t do it anymore.”

Dean nodded. “I can do those.”

“That’s what _I_ want,” Cas continued. “I need to know what _you_ want.”

“What I want?” Dean repeated. “I want you, Cas.”

“I know that but you can’t just agree to what I want in case you lose me. Tell me what you want,” Cas pleaded.

“I want us to be together,” Dean said simply.

“And?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. “And what?”

“Dean, please talk to me, I know you’re not good at this and you’ve not exactly had much practice but just this once tell me what’s in here.” He put his right hand on Dean’s chest and Dean looked down, his mouth opening.

Suddenly everything felt like he was underwater, his heart began to beat faster, his mouth became dry. The words wouldn’t come as he looked up into Cas’ expectant eyes, going from one eye to the other.

Cas could see that Dean was searching for something inside himself, whether it was what he wanted or the words to express it he could see he wasn’t going to ignore him and so he waited. He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure if Dean was going to push him away or push forward for them but he knew he’d wait for as long as it took.

Dean tried to find the words, closing his eyes when Cas’ eyes became too much for him, but he couldn’t find any way to express how he felt. In the end he began to panic, thinking that Cas would decide he’d had enough of giving Dean chances and waiting around, he was terrified that he’d been given this last chance and he’d blow it. He had one chance to get everything he wanted, he just had to reach out and grab it.

So he did.

He used his right hand and ran it over Cas’ neck, slowly, looking into Cas’ eyes.

Cas had not expected that. A stuttering almost incomprehensible mess, yes; a few words that’d turn into anger at himself that he’d project onto Cas, probably. But a presentation-associated show of solid commitment, never in a million years. Even out of heat it sent Cas’ heart thumping.

There was a big part of him that couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t bring himself to be hurt again, so he lifted his hand from Dean’s chest and grabbed his arm, holding it in the air between them, his fingers still out straight, just an inch from Cas' neck. Dean had visibly jumped at the movement and yet he continued to stare at Cas who read the expression as trust and honesty, if confused and scared that he’d done something wrong.

They continued to look at each other for half a minute.

“Do you know what that means?” Cas asked, he tried to keep his voice calm and yet it shook as he also attempted to suppress a rumble in his chest, it swelled at the end of his sentence, guttural, tense and unmistakably alpha. Dean wasn’t sure whether to be scared or turned on.

“Yes,” he managed to say, feeling his insides tremble a little.

“Don’t do that,” Cas said carefully. “Don’t do that unless you mean it, Dean.” And then he inhaled as emotion filled his voice. “Please don’t do that to me.”

Dean’s instinct was to run out of Cas’ front door, to get in his car and drive, to never look back until he was as far away from Cas as possible before he could hurt him any more than he already had. However, that sounded pretty kamakazee to him.

He moved his hand in Cas’ grasp and Cas let it go, lowering his hand to his side. Dean lifted the other and ran both of his hands over Cas’ neck, Cas felt an intense rush in his system and he inhaled hard, his body told him to close his eyes but he looked down first, then closed them, squeezing them hard and then forced himself to look up at Dean, breathing through the feeling.

“I _mean_ together,” Dean said in a low tone. “All in.”

Cas leaned his forehead against Dean’s while they still looked at each other, he kept his hands at his side trying to find it inside of him to take this chance. He knew it wasn’t even a question so he leaned forward and kissed him once, putting his hands on Dean’s upper arms and then turned his head to the side, kissing the skin on Dean’s neck before he bit it.

It wasn’t hard but it wasn’t playful either and Dean’s eyes closed; he knew what it was – an alpheral expression of commitment – and while he’d done it before they couldn’t pretend it didn’t mean anything now.

Cas kissed the skin under his jaw and let his hand come down to Dean’s sides.

“Do it again,” Dean whispered and Cas didn’t hesitate before he complied. This time it wasn’t unsure or quick and it was hard enough to hurt. Dean winced but not audibly, he lifted his left hand onto Cas’ head then ran his finger through his hair. “Cas-,” Dean said and Cas heard a choked sob in his voice.

Cas removed his bite and they embraced, holding onto each other tight and mumbling to each other.

Eventually they sat down and had a coffee – decaf – together. Dean had his right arm along the back of the couch and they were never more than a few inches apart with Dean’s right leg folded up onto the couch and Cas resting his left hand there. There was a red mark on Dean's neck and Cas couldn't help being drawn to looking at it; it meant so much to them but there was also a biological draw to it. It was his mark, his claim and Dean had wanted it. That made the butterflies in his stomach flurry and his breathing quicken.

“How is Sam doing?” Cas asked.

Dean swallowed the coffee he had in his mouth and nodded. “He seems okay. He came to me the night before I, uh-.” He couldn’t finish what he was saying and Cas knew what he meant and so he continued, “He said he’d tried to score but couldn’t find anyone so he’d come to me.”

“That’s good,” Cas said.

Dean nodded. “I just wish he could have come to me first, what if he finds someone next time?” He exhaled. “But we talked, we laid some things out, told him I watched _Game of Thrones_ without him.” He laughed. “He actually watched it too.” Cas smiled a little. “We acknowledged that we have to try harder with each other, as brothers. And I realised I need to learn to just shut up.”

“Shut up?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, he said he’s sick of me just taking control and trying to fix everything and it’s not helping so I need to just take a step back, shut up, listen and be there.”

Cas smiled. “Sounds like you really talked,” he said. “I’m happy for you.” Dean nodded. “I’m proud of you.”

Dean looked to him, his brow dipping in misapprehension. “Are you?” Cas nodded. “Why?”

“It takes a lot to take a back seat when you’ve been through as much as you two have, especially when he’s going through what he is.”

Dean smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “For acknowledging that, instead of making me feel like a control freak.”

“Oh, you’re a control freak,” Cas said and Dean nodded. “But that’s not your fault, you’ve had to be.”

“Thanks,” Dean said with a laugh. “I think.”

After a few more minutes Dean hesitated and said he should get back to his apartment and make sure Sam was okay – in a completely un-control freak way – and Cas walked him to the door.

“Listen,” Dean said and turned to look at him, “don’t push yourself at work. You’ve been through a lot, let yourself heal from that too.”

Cas smiled and nodded. “I will.”

“And if you need me,” Dean said, not saying the rest, instead he motion a phone at his ear.

“You too,” Cas assured.

“Yeah,” Dean said and took his jacket from the peg and looked back to Cas. “I had fun,” he added. “It was nice, going out, having dinner,” he shrugged, “nothing expected.”

Cas nodded. “It was, but we’ve never expected anything from each other, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Dean said. “I just meant out of heat, with no stepped on eggshells-.” Cas looked at him confused. “It’s a phrase, means not being too scared to say the wrong thing.”

Cas nodded his understanding. “Yes, it was nice to be able to say how I felt without fear that I’d chase you away.”

Dean chuckled as he stepped towards him, cupping Cas’ jaw with his right hand before he shook his head and said, “No chance of that now.”

Cas put his hands on Dean’s sides as they kissed. “No?” he asked when they parted.

“No way,” Dean said and kissed him again before pulling away, Cas letting his hands fall. “Better get a move on.” He opened the front door and turned to look at Cas. “Call me?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, I will.”

Dean nodded and turned to continue walking, as he approached his car he waved to Mr Jacobi and rounded the car, pulling the door open and winking to Cas before getting in. Cas watched him drive away then waved to Mr Jacobi himself before going inside.

Dean found himself singing along to the cassette playing in his car all the way home and even while walking to the apartment building, under his breath.

Cas decided to have a quick shower and go to bed early, without working. As he lay there he thought about everything over the past few days and when he started crying he wasn’t sure if it was because of the memory of having a gun to his head, the baby he lost or the stress of work. It could even be relief that Dean was back in his life and they understood each other even more now.

>><<

A week later Dean sighed and left his room in the bunker, walking next door to Sam's and opened the door before he stuck his head in. Sam looked up from his book.

"You got any clean dress shirts?"

Sam's brow dipped. "Why?"

"We've ran out of towels." His face darkened. "To put on, you idiot."

"You?" Sam asked. "It'd drown you." Dean sighed. "What do you need a shirt for?"

Dean stared at him and then just left the room. Sam sighed as he stood up and followed him. "I know what shirts are for," Sam said and went into Dean's room where he was rummaging through the shirts in his dresser. "I meant, where are you going?"

"Dinner with Cas," Dean muttered and sniffed a shirt before throwing it behind him and rummaging more.

Sam smiled. "So the usual shirts won't cut it?" He shrugged and Dean looked to him. "What's wrong with the shirt you've worn the past three days?"

"Shut up," Dean said and sighed, pulling out a _Steppenwolf_ shirt and being pleasantly surprised when he smelled it. "That'll have to do." He pulled his current shirt off and smelled his armpits before reaching for his deodorant. "Just showered," he muttered to himself and sprayed it.

"Go home and get a shirt," Sam said, leaning against the open doorway.

"I haven't got time, Cas is picking me up here," he said and pulled his shirt on.

"How are you two, back to normal?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "We're trying," he said.

"You guys actually talking about it or are you ignoring it?" Sam asked and Dean looked to him. "The miscarriage."

Dean looked away before reaching out for his jacket. "We're not ignoring it, we're just trying to get passed it."

"You can't get passed it until you talk about it," Sam argued.

"No, I mean get passed the awkwardness, the hurt." Dean stared into the distance. "Everything." He swallowed and then fixed his jacket. "Anyway."

Suddenly Ash appeared at the door and spoke to Dean, "Charlie said that your ride is here." He promptly disappeared again without waiting for a reply.

Dean excused himself and walked out to where Cas was waiting, got in the car and leaned across to kiss Cas before they were off towards a bar nearby.

"How was work?" Dean asked, tentatively.

"It was okay," Cas said with a smile that told Dean that he'd rather not talk about it.

They didn't talk again until they were seated in a booth in a bar with cheeseburgers in front of them.

Dean took a large bite and then dipped a fry in ketchup and ate that too. "Do you realise this is the first time that we're having cheeseburgers without a heat?"

Cas smiled a little. "I did, actually. When you ordered I thought about saying something but then decided to have one too." He shrugged as he picked his up. "We can let that tradition go, since everything is changed. I suppose."

"Why do we have to let it go?" Dean asked. "I like it."

"Then we won't," Cas said, through a mouthful. "I refused to eat cheeseburgers except during that time with you, I thought it would taint it."

Dean smiled and so did Cas. Suddenly, Cas' nose was filled with the smell of mint and it overwhelmed him. It wasn't an unwanted smell, it was pleasant and invigorating. He felt his skin tingle and his breathing pick up.

Cas put the burger down, his eyes wide. He coughed as he swallowed.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked and Cas took a drink, shaking his head.

Behind Cas there was a commotion and all of the dinners and bar staff turned.

"It's okay darlin',"  female Irish voice came from the booth behind Cas. A woman, the source of the voice, was helping a young man out of the booth. Cas picked up his napkin and covered his mouth, Dean watched Cas' breathing hitch and his brow dipped.

A man at the bar put his drink down and walked over to the young man. "Hey, oh," he said and tried to reach out to his neck. The Irish woman pushed his hand away. "You leave him alone," she said and Cas turned his head, Dean watched him.

"I think I'll decide," the man said and reached out again but the young man cowered away and the woman shielded him.

A member of bar staff tried to step in. "He doesn't want-."

"I don't care," the man said and pushed the woman away.

Cas shook his head and stood up, they all looked to him. "I care," he said. "Sit down."

The man chuckled. "A challenger, is it?"

Dean really wished he had his gun.

Cas felt the mint in his airwaves as he opened his mouth. "This isn't a game, he's a child!" He pointed to the young man.

"He's viable," the man said and reached out.

Cas stepped in front of the young man and the woman protecting him and swiped his hand away. "I don't care," he said.

"Listen," the man said, with a chuckle.

"No, you listen," Cas said and stepped forward. "He doesn't want you, she said no, I'm telling you no." When the man opened his mouth Cas growled and he paused while Dean's back went up. The young man moaned and Dean felt something hot and jaggy spike through him. Cas' head turned to the right ever so slightly and then he looked back to the man.

The man from the bar hesitated and then turned back to the bar.

"Thank you," the young lad said, his accent also Irish.

"Don't you thank him," she said as Cas turned back to them. Her eyes darted up and down him. "He's not doing it for the crack. He's not going with you, my son is not something to be won!" she yelled.

Cas put his hands up. "That wasn't what I was doing," he said and gestured to Dean. "I'll just-." He smiled and sat back down, glancing to the bar where the man was grumbling into his drink.

The feeling inside Dean was hot and made his jaw tense. "What was that?" Dean asked as Cas sat down.

Cas glanced as the young man was helped out of the bar by his mother. "What?" Cas asked as he wiped his mouth and took a drink.

"You know what," Dean said.

"He's barely fifteen," Cas said. "I couldn't let that-."

"I get it now," Dean said with a nod. "This is your thing. You like being the hero." He pulled himself out of the booth, dragging his coat with him.

"Dean?" Cas said and followed him.

"Was I the first?" Dean asked. "Or was I just a casualty of this hero alpha thing you get off on?"

"Dean, all I was doing was-."

"Don't waste your time talking to me," Dean said. "If you run, you can catch them." He stormed off and out of the fire exit.

Cas followed him, leaving their food and his jacket. "Dean!" he ran after him and caught him halfway across the parking lot. "Dean, I was just trying to help. Why are you-?"

"You growled!" Dean yelled.

Cas paused. "That's what's wrong? Dean, I can do that whenever I want to."

"Yeah, right," Dean muttered but was stunned to silence when Cas growled at him, his face expressionless and he raised his eyebrows pointedly. "You-. You can do that whenever?"

"Yes," Cas said.

"So, when I'm in heat and you-?"

"No," Cas said and shook his head. "No, baby. I swear, I never fake that."

Dean looked in his eyes and then to the side, suddenly feeling stupid. "So what did he smell like?"

"Dean," Cas said and reached out for him, putting his hands on Dean's neck.

Dean let him but his eyes pierced into him. "What did he smell like?"

"Mint," Cas admitted.

Dean pushed his lips out. "Did he?" He tuned his head to the left and Cas smiled a little.

"You don't want me to kiss you when you're angry," Cas said.

Dean looked back to him and tilted his head. "Yeah, you're right." He looked to the door they left. "Do you think the food will still be there?"

Cas smiled. "Well, if it's not we could get a pizza," he said.

Dean looked to him and then smiled too. "Yeah, I guess so."

They headed back inside.

 

Later, they were in Cas' house, sitting on his couch with a pizza.

"Do you think that the bar staff think you went after that Irish kid?" Dean asked.

"Probably," Cas said sheepishly.

"Is that what alphas do, just jump from one omega to another?" Dean asked and took a bite.

"Maybe they do, but I won't," Cas replied.

Dean's face felt hot as the shame filled him up. "I don't know where that came from."

"You were in the presence of another omega in heat and your alpha protected them, I'm surprised that you didn't go into heat on the spot," Cas said.

"Well, I couldn't, could I?" Dean said. "I'm still taking the suppressors."

There was a tension between them.

"Do you want me to stop them?" Dean asked, in between a mouthful.

Cas hesitated, thinking about telling Dean that it was his choice. Instead he said, "Yes, I do," he said. "But only when you're ready. Or if."

"You'd still want us to be together if I never came off of them?" he asked.

Cas' brow dipped. "Surely you know the answer to that?" He took a slice and bit into it.

Dean hesitated and then squeezed his eyes shut. "Sorry, I don't know where that came from."

Cas knew it was a side effect of being in the presence of another omega in heat but decided not to say anything. Instead he just enjoyed being with Dean and remembered that the seventeen year old omega who leaned away from him in the car was the same man who was now leaning against him and smiling when Cas kissed his neck.

 >><< 

Sam had been in Dean’s apartment for a couple of weeks as they’d worked a few cases together and was in the kitchen using a blender to mix a smoothie.

Dean came out of the bathroom with something in his hand and Sam stopped the machine. “Jesus,” he said. “What was that?”

“Ice,” Sam said and looked when Dean leaned to put what was in his hand in the bin. “What was that?” he asked.

Dean went to the refrigerator. “My suppressors.”

“Did you see the-?”

“Yeah, I saw Lisa,” Dean said.

“What’d she say, about how you’re healing?”

“Doing good,” Dean said. “She wants to see you,” he added and looked to his brother.

“Me? Why?” he asked.

“I spoke to her about-,” he shrugged, “-about how things were going and she wants to see you.” He looked to Sam. “Will you go?” Sam swallowed. “Not any doctor, go see Lisa, for me, please?” he asked. “Just check in, tell her how you’re feeling and see if she has more resources or help.”

Sam hesitated before nodding. “Okay,” he said.

“Really?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” he said and nodded. “But only her!” He pointed to Dean. “Don’t change your mind in a week and ask me to go to someone else.”

“No,” Dean said and shook his head. “No, of course, that’s all I want.”

Sam nodded. “Fine,” he said. “So you two are doing heats again?”

“Yep,” Dean said and looked to the fridge. “We've been speaking about it for a while and I think it's time. I never noticed before how it messes with your head and everything. The hormones build up and I feel muddled. I don't like it so I saw Lisa yesterday, everything’s good. It might take a while for my body to get back into a rhythm.” He shrugged. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” He looked to Sam. “You in tonight?”

Sam hesitated. “Maybe I should go back to the bunker.”

Sam waited for Dean to protest and practically restrain him in the apartment.

“Okay,” Dean said.

Sam looked at him. “Okay?”

Dean looked to his brother’s disbelieved expression. “Yeah, if that’s what you think is best then okay, you know where I am.” He pointed to him. “But, if you want, Cas and me are going to get a takeaway and beer and watch TV,” he gestured his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the TV, “you’re welcome to join us.”

“Here?” Sam asked and smirked. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Dean said. “We thought you were gonna be here anyway. We’re-," he glanced to Sam awkwardly before looking away. "We’re taking it slowly,” he said and avoided Sam’s eye.

Sam nodded. “That’d be good,” he said. “Thanks. So, you guys are really doing this, huh?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, we figured it’s about time.”

Sam nodded. “I’m happy for you,” he said.

“Thanks,” Dean said and reached in to get a bottle of water.

“Proud of you too,” Sam said and Dean looked at him. “You’re growing up.”

“Shut up,” Dean said, shut the fridge and walked into the living room area as Sam laughed.

Dean smiled to himself as he sat down and thought he could get used to people telling him that they were proud of him.

 

Sam was lying on the couch watching TV when the intercom buzzed and Dean actually jumped up from the armchair and walked between the couch and coffee table on his way to the door.

Sam smiled as he watched his eagerness. “It might be the pizza,” Sam said.

“Shut up,” Dean said and pushed the intercom. “Yup?”

“It’s Castiel,” a familiar voice answered.

“Come on up,” Dean said and buzzed him in.

“Come on up?” Sam mocked as he lay back down, expecting Dean to open the door and sit back down.

“Yeah,” Dean said, his voice sounded distant, as if he were concentrating, and it made Sam lift up on his elbow and look to the door where his brother was looking in the mirror and fixing his hair, “it didn’t sound right to me either. But what do you say? I don’t remember ever answering anyone before.”

“He really makes you nervous, doesn’t he?”

Dean turned to look at his brother. “Not in a bad way,” he said and turned back to the mirror before huffing and looking back to Sam. “Laugh at me later but do I look okay?”

Sam smiled. “You look fine.” He lay down again.

“Fine,” Dean said. “You’re useless.”

Sam scoffed and then there was a knock at the door and he heard Dean exhale before he pulled it open.

“Hey,” Dean said.

“Hello Dean,” Sam heard Cas reply and then there was silence and when he leaned up on his elbows to look at them he found his brother and his alpha pulling from a kiss and smiling at each other then laughing like teenagers.

“Will you two at least shut the door,” Sam said and lay down before they looked to him. “It’s freezing.”

Dean looked back to Cas whose expression was worried but Dean shrugged it off and gestured for him to go in. He moved to close the door behind them.

“We’ve got pizza comin’, hope that’s okay,” Dean said.

“That’s fine,” Cas said. “If I could just use your bathroom?” He pointed.

“Sure, yeah,” Dean said and as Cas disappeared into the room Dean walked over to the couch and hit Sam on the head.

“Ow!” Sam said and looked to his brother. “What the hell?”

“What was that?” Dean said. “If you’re gonna act like a petulant kid you can go home!”

“You’re the one’s acting like kids,” Sam said petulantly.

“What? Would you rather we came and sat on your lap and made out?” Dean asked.

“It would be better than acting like I’m not here,” Sam said.

Dean shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Sam exhaled. “I just-.”

“I’m going to go,” Cas said and they turned their heads to see him making for the door.

“Cas, wait-,” Dean said and followed him.

“I didn’t mean-,” Sam said, standing up.

“It’s fine,” Cas said and pulled the door open.

“Look what you did!” Dean said.

Sam exhaled. “I-,” he said and then exhaled before he took off after Cas. “Castiel!” Sam shouted as he ran down the stairs and caught Cas halfway down the first flight. “Wait.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, putting his hand up.

Sam rounded him and made him stop, stopping three steps below Cas. “It’s not,” he said.

“Clearly I underestimated how much of a problem this would be,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“I thought that Dean didn’t want anyone to know about us because of his own insecurities but I can tell now that-.” He gestured to Sam.

“No, wait,” Sam said. “I have no problems with you or you and Dean at all,” he wiped his hand in the air. “At all.”

Cas hesitated. “Then, what?”

Sam exhaled through his nose and his jaw tightened. “Dean, he uh-, he didn’t want me to know. He says that it was because he wanted to keep you and work separate but-.”

“You’re not convinced?” Castiel asked.

Sam paused before he tilted his head. “No, I’m not. I think he didn’t want me to know.”

“Why do you think that is?” Cas asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted.

“Did you ask him?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, but you know him, he just ignores the question or turns it back on you.”

Cas sighed and turned before making his way back up the stairs without a word. Sam hesitated before he followed him. When he got to the landing he found Cas standing outside Dean’s apartment and gesturing for him to hurry up and so he did.

Sam walked into the apartment and looked behind him as Cas followed him.

“What’s going on?” Dean said, standing where he’d left him. “Did you apologise?” he demanded from Sam. “Cas, I’m really sorry-.”

Cas put his hand up as he shut the door. “Remember that thing Sam told you about shutting up?” Cas asked and Sam looked from Cas to his brother in surprise; the idea that he’d confided this in Cas wasn’t a betrayal just a surprise. Dean shifted on his feet, his jaw tight and then looked down. Cas looked to Sam. “Ask him.”

Dean looked up to Cas and saw him looking at Sam so he looked to his brother.

Sam looked to Dean and swallowed, noting that Dean wasn’t demanding answers from him. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

Dean sighed. “I told you-.”

“No, you didn’t. You gave me a bullshit answer protecting me from the truth. I’m a big boy now, I can take the real reason.”

“I told you the real reason,” Dean said.

“Not all of it,” Sam said.

Dean pursed his lips together and looked down guiltily before he looked up to Sam. “I didn’t want you thinking I was abandoning you or that you’d be anything less than my priority.”

Sam’s brow dipped. “Why would I think that?”

“Sam, you didn’t know about Cas but you knew I was in heat and you got shot and what did you say?” Sam’s face relaxed and he looked to the side. “You yelled at me that you had no one else to go with. You got shot because I was with him.” Dean gestured to Cas.

“No,” Sam said. “I got shot because I didn’t wait for back up, not because of you.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded once, “well, your attitude said different.”

“But you were already keeping him a secret,” Sam said. “Before I got shot.”

“Yeah, because I was worried you’d feel that way, the very way you ended up feeling. I didn’t want to tell you that there was someone else I cared about.” Cas watched Dean. “I didn’t want you to have someone else to hate. If you were gonna hate anyone it was gonna be me.”

“I didn’t hate you,” Sam said. “And I don’t hate Castiel.” He looked to Cas. “I just hate that I felt like I was losing you.” He looked back to Dean.

The intercom buzzed and Dean nodded. “Well, I didn’t want you to think you were losing me _to Cas_.” He crossed over them to answer the intercom. “Yup?”

“Pizza delivery,” the woman said.

“Yup,” Dean repeated and buzzed him in.

“Not come on up?” Sam asked.

“Shut up,” Dean said and pushed him away from him. “Look, I can’t go back and undo keeping this,” he gestured between him and Cas, “a secret and yeah, okay, maybe I could just explain stuff, especially when you actually ask me. But,” he shrugged as he gestured to himself, “I’m not perfect, Sam. I learned not to tell Dad how I really felt or he’d kick me out for three weeks and I’d lose you.” He shrugged again. “It’s a hard habit to lose.” He walked to the refrigerator.

Cas watched him with a look of pride on his face and Sam smiled.

“Yeah, well,” Sam said and opened the door to the sound of someone running up the stairs, “you’re doing alright so far.” He looked to the woman as she walked towards him. “Hey,” he said.

Dean smiled to himself and then looked to Cas. “Beer?” he asked.

“I’m driving,” Cas said.

They looked to each other and the question for him to stay the night lingered on Dean’s lips but instead he looked back to the refrigerator. “Water then?”

“Thank you,” Cas said.

Sam paid for the pizza and closed the door with his foot then walked into the living area and put them on the coffee table. “What we watching then?” Sam asked and took a beer Dean held out over the couch for him.

“I wanted to watch _Blood Pressure_ ,” Castiel said.

Sam hummed. “Yeah, that’s supposed to be great.”

“No way,” Dean said as he rounded the couch and sat in the armchair. “Not watching some depressing history thing.”

“It’s a fiction film,” Sam said as Cas sat on the couch, “about aids in France.”

“Depressing,” Dean said and looked up at Sam as he stopped in front of him.

“Out my chair,” Sam said and gestured to the couch with wide eyes.

Dean sighed, trying not to smile, and stood up then walked to stand in front of the couch and gestured his hands wide as he sat down beside Cas. “Good enough?” he asked. “But, come on, that sounds depressin’.”

“It’s culture,” Sam said and grabbed the remote, on the arm of the armchair. “Two against one, we’re watching it.” He began flipping through the menu as Dean opened one of the pizza boxes.

“See what you did?” Dean said as he handed the top box to Cas.

“Apologies,” Cas said and took it, smiling.

 

They settled into watching the movie, Sam occasionally going to the refrigerator to get beer and water for them. Cas had taken one of these opportunities to put his left arm on the back of the couch behind Dean and they smiled at each other.

The second time Sam had took out two beers. “You sure you don’t want beer, Castiel?” Sam asked.

The pair looked at each other.

“Oh!” Sam said and ran to get his cell phone when it rang, still holding the beers. “Pause that!” he said and then did it himself before taking his phone and practically falling over as he ran out onto the balcony.

Dean watched him, he didn’t answer a call but a facetime.

“He’s the one with the remote,” Dean said and looked to Cas who laughed. “You know, uh,” Dean said, “you could stay here.”

Cas opened his mouth. “I could,” he said.

Dean sensed his hesitation. “Uh, Sam would be on the couch but I didn’t mean anything by it, I just-,” he sighed, “I just meant if you wanted to stay. Not- not that.”

“I know what you meant,” Cas said.

“And I don’t mean anything would happen, just because we’re in the same bed. I just-.”

“Dean,” Cas said, “I understand.”

Dean nodded and then looked outside, hearing Sam talking but not what he was saying. “What the hell is he doing? Sam, come on!” Dean yelled to him and Sam turned then waved his hand, indicating he would be two minutes, he then turned back to the phone and seemed to explain what had just happened. “I’m gonna kick his ass, who is he talking to?”

“Could it be a case?” Cas asked.

“Nah, he wouldn’t be that eager. Besides, why would he need to see their face?” He looked to Cas. “Sorry,” he said and smiled. “And I’m sorry for what happened earlier.”

“Don’t be,” Cas said.

“You must think we’re all crazy,” Dean said.

“No,” Cas replied and reached out his right hand to Dean’s left, entwining their fingers, “I do however think you need to talk more.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and then laughed. “You might be right,” he said, looking to their hands. “I don’t know what it is, sometimes I just can’t answer him.” He shrugged. “I’m still on that setting, that solid setting, that-.” He exhaled as if he were trying to find the right words.

“Superman setting?” Cas asked.

Dean looked to him and then smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. He asks me something and the idea of admitting that I have a flaw or weakness just shuts me down.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” Sam said as he walked back in and Dean looked to him as he sat put the beer down.

Cas leaned forward, dropping his hold on Dean’s hand, and took one, twisting the top off and took a drink. Sam walked to the refrigerator as Dean looked to him then smiled and took his own from the table.

Sam sat back down and played the movie, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Dean rested back against the couch and seemed a lot more relaxed than before. He even put his right arm on Cas’ left leg and rubbed his hand on his knee.

Towards the end when Cas was crying in response to the film Dean lifted his right hand to touch his index finger to his jaw and asked him if he was okay. Cas nodded and wiped the tear from his cheek but Dean looked back to the TV before he glanced to Sam who was sniffing and wiping tears just as they fell. He thought about how he’d automatically held them back and remembered that Cas had said that he dealt with his emotions instead of cutting them off and he knew that Sam’s reaction was perhaps healthier than his own – in that he let the tears fall first – but it still showed the impact of his broken childhood.

Dean decided to take the pizza boxes and bottles to the trash unwittingly leaving Cas and Sam alone.

“So, Dean said you were adopted,” Sam said, “what was that like?” He knew it was lame but what else could he say?

Cas nodded. “It could be hard, at times, in the home, but my parents were amazing,” he said. “It was hard saying goodbye to some people.” His smile fell. “Gabriel in particular.”

“You didn’t see him again?” Sam asked, taking a drink.

“No,” Castiel said. “He ran away after I left and I never saw him again. I think about him a lot.” He looked up to Sam who gave him a reassuring smile. “Sam,” he shifted forward, “I’m sorry if this is difficult for you but I would never come between you and Dean.”

“Thank you,” Sam said. “But it’s not difficult, it’s weird, yeah, but not difficult. I kinda feel like a kid watching his teenage brother.” He stuttered. “Not that I’m watching you guys.”

“I hope not,” Dean said and re-entered the room.

 

It wasn’t long before Dean started yawning and when he went into the bathroom Sam approached Castiel who was in the kitchen.

“He’s too scared to suggest going to bed,” Sam said.

“He is?” Cas asked. “Why?”

Sam smiled. “He doesn’t want you to think he,” he shrugged, “wants something.”

Realisation dawned on Castiel’s face and he nodded so Sam moved away from him as he heard Dean exiting the bathroom.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” Cas announced as he slipped passed Dean into the bathroom.

“Okay,” Dean said after hesitation then looked to Sam. “Is it okay with you, if we go to bed?” he asked, gesturing to the bathroom, indicating Cas.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, yeah, you don’t have to ask,” he said.

“You know where everything is,” Dean said, meaning a comforter and then he realised he didn’t have a spare pillow, since Sam usually used his second one. “Uh, pillow,” he simply stated.

“I’ll use a cushion,” Sam said.

“You sure?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Maybe you should buy a spare though, since you share your bed now.”

Dean smiled a little. “Yeah, things have to adjust.”

“Are you adjusting?” Sam asked.

Dean smiled and nodded. “Yeah, are you?”

Sam laughed and looked to the side embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t be,” he said. “We need to talk more.” He shrugged. “That is gonna involve me answering stuff that maybe I don’t wanna but.” He stopped and Sam nodded then looked away. “Who called you?”

Sam looked to him and his mouth opened and then he closed it.

Dean nodded and when Cas emerged he went into the bathroom.

Sam groaned in frustration. “Dammit,” he said as he spun on the spot.

“Sam?” Cas followed him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said and nodded. “I’m fine.”

Cas’ brow dipped; Sam did not look okay at all but he concluded it was something he didn’t want to talk about with Castiel. He nodded and walked to the door, Sam watching him check the lock and pull the chain across before walking to the bedroom and disappearing inside.

Sam was on the balcony when Dean exited the bathroom and he looked over his shoulder to see him go to the front door and check the chain there before putting his head down – avoiding looking at Sam – and going into the bedroom.

Dean found the bedroom in the low light of the lamp and Cas lying in bed on the side closest the door. His chest was bare and his clothes were folded and piled up on the floor in the corner near his side.

“I took the pants you usually give me, I hope that was okay,” Cas said, his voice lazy and tired.

“Yeah, s’fine,” Dean said and went to the blind to pull it down before he began undressing.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

Dean glanced to the door. “Sam, he’s- he has a go at me for having secrets and keeps them himself.” He sighed. “It’s frustrating. I know people have secrets, it just feels like one rule for me and one for him.” He shrugged as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and dumped it in the corner beside his wardrobe.

“Maybe he isn’t ready to tell you yet,” Cas offered.

“I only asked who called him,” Dean said and pulled his pants off, one leg at a time.

Cas shrugged. “Maybe he has a girlfriend or boyfriend.”

“Girl,” Dean said. “Sam is straight.” He sighed. “But again, he has a go at me for keeping you to myself but has a girlfriend he won’t tell me about?”

“I don’t know if he does, I just offered up a-.”

“I know, I know,” Dean said and exhaled. “I’m sorry.” He approached the bed and turned the lamp off. “I just-, when he won’t tell me stuff I automatically,” he lifted the sheets up and slid into the bed, “think of the worst.”

Cas turned to look at him. “Maybe that’s why he can’t tell you” he said.

Dean thought about it and his eyebrows lifted. “Yeah, maybe.” He rolled onto his back.

“How’s your stab wound?” Cas asked.

“Hmm?” Dean asked and looked down when he felt warmth on his left side. “Oh that!” He sniffed. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“What about your eye?” Cas said. “It seems to have healed well.”

Dean nodded and then he made a decision. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Cas said with his usual openness and lack of suspicion.

“I’m going to keep hunting,” he said.

Cas paused and then smiled. “Dean, I didn’t expect you not to.”

“I know but I’m gonna get hurt, hell it might be what gets me killed.” Cas’ smile fell. “It wasn’t what I wanted to be as a kid, I didn’t dream of being a hunter or of that being my end but this is where I’ve ended up. I need you to know that, I need you to be okay with that. I need you not to drive yourself insane with that.”

Cas lifted his left hand from Dean’s side and onto his chest. “Dean, I’m not here to change you. You are who you are and if you’re happy with who you are, what you do and where you are then that’s all I could ask for. If you’re unhappy then I am here to support you and help you change that. I know that you’re used to life being a certain way – not talking about your emotions or people yelling at you when you don’t do what they want. I’m not that person. I’m just here, beside you. I have no other way to explain it other than that. I will be beside you or behind you or in front of you, wherever you want me to be, whenever.”

Dean lifted his right hand and rubbed it over Cas’ neck and Cas smiled down at him before leaning down and kissing him. His left hand ran up to the side of Dean’s neck and he pulled back a little, looking in Dean’s eyes – or what he could see in the darkness – hearing Sam moving around in the living room. He kissed him again, feeling Dean’s right hand move slowly around to his side and back, his fingers tickling the skin as they moved.

Cas pulled back. “I wasn’t trying to-.”

“I know,” Dean said. “I like this, this is where we are.”

Cas smiled and kissed him again. Dean turned them onto their sides and let his right hand run up Cas’ back, their movements were unhurried and content. When Dean lifted his right hand and touched the underside of Cas’ jaw they both smiled.

“The end of that film,” he said, his voice croaking, “I didn’t cry.”

Cas shook his head. “That’s okay,” he said.

“But I felt all of the emotions, I just couldn’t let myself cry,” he said and his brow dipped. “There’s something wrong with me, right?”

“No,” Cas said. “Not at all.”

“Sam cried. I mean he wiped the tears away too quickly but he cried.”

Cas exhaled through his nose. “Dean,” he said, “yes, you have been moulded in a way that wasn’t healthy-.”

“Damaged,” Dean said. “Just say damaged.”

Cas paused. “I’ll say damaged if you change the way you perceive that word. You’re not damaged goods, you were emotionally-, for want of a better word, abused in a way that damaged you. That doesn’t make you damaged.”

“What does that mean then?” Dean asked.

“It means that one day you’ll let the tears fall and you’ll probably wipe them away too quickly,” Cas said. “Sam had the same upbringing as you-.”

“No,” Dean said and shook his head. “No, he didn’t. He had it bad, but I took the brunt so that he didn’t have to.”

“Okay,” Cas nodded, “then now you can repair that. Hopefully you can work on that and one day you’ll cry if you want to cry. But the important part is that you feel these emotions and know that you’re allowed to do that. You don’t have to show anything that you don’t want to but to feel and to feel without guilt, that’s what’s important, baby.”

Dean smiled. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas smiled too. “Is that why you didn’t want to watch the film?”

“No,” Dean said, “I just thought it’d be some boring documentary.”

“It must have struck a chord with Sam.” Dean looked confused. “Well, we can’t contract HIV now but betas can. Especially those involved in drugs.”

“He’s not _involved_ in drugs,” Dean said defensively.

Cas put his hand up in surrender. “I didn’t mean-."

“Sorry,” Dean said and closed his eyes. “Sorry.”

Cas lowered his hand back to Dean’s neck. “I only meant that maybe that was why he cried.”

Dean nodded. “I didn’t know we couldn’t contract HIV anymore.”

Cas nodded. “In rare cases we can,” he shrugged, “we’re still evolving. But the lycan part of us is immune.”

“But betas have lycan DNA in there,” Dean said. “Why doesn’t that protect him?”

“I don’t know,” Cas said.

Dean’s brow scrunched. “Why wasn’t it covered in the film?”

Cas shrugged. “My guess would be that they assume that everyone knows. Perhaps they assume a film exclusively about betas wouldn’t be watched by other presentations.”

Dean remembered the scene in the film where the hospital was attacked by far right groups who said that they should be killed for the good of the population.

“We kid ourselves that the world isn’t like that,” Dean said and then scoffed. “Or maybe I kid myself. But I remember growing up, Sam was kinda brushed to the side. His scholarship was an inclusion scholarship, universities have to admit certain numbers of different presentations to prove they are diverse, same with race and gender, whatever. But the presentation one was new.”

Cas nodded, moving his hand to Dean’s side. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Dean nodded too. “I remember knowing he wasn’t gonna be an omega because, I mean, I changed his diapers. But I was so glad he wasn’t an alpha, not happy because he _was beta_ , but because he _wasn’t alpha._ ” Dean paused. “I never thought about what he’d get, being a beta.”

Cas exhaled. “There’s nothing you can do about that, Dean. He is who he is, he is who he was meant to be.”

Dean nodded. “He’s a great kid,” he said. “I know he’ll say he’s not a kid but.” He shrugged.

“Gabriel was a beta,” Castiel said out of the blue. “I wonder what he went through.

Dean didn’t know what to say and so he leaned forward and kissed him.

“You, uh, you wanna do something tomorrow?” Dean asked.

“Like what?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, just, something.”

Cas smiled a little. “Sure,” he said. “Did you talk to your doctor about your heats?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded and smiled at him. “What, you itching to jump on me?” he joked.

Cas smiled too, knowing it was Dean’s way to distance himself. “Come on,” he said.

Dean exhaled audibly and nodded then lay on his back. “I just gotta wait and see, let my body settle back into its routine.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Cas looked to him and then shifted to lean up on his right elbow, looking down at him. “Can I check?”

Dean turned his head to look at him. “How?” he asked and when Cas gestured to his neck he remembered. “Oh, yeah, sure.” He tilted his head up.

Cas leaned down and Dean’s eyes closed as he ran his nose up his neck; he could smell a distant aroma of oil and leather with a hint of smoke. It gave him shivers but it was far off, just like his heat.

He leaned back and Dean lowered his head to look at him. “No,” he said. “You’ve got a while.”

Dean let his tongue poke out and pull his lip in as he wet it. “Right, yeah.”

They stared at each other and Cas was sure he could sense that Dean was aroused and even just that knowledge did the same to him but neither of them wanted to pursue it. Cas knew they weren’t ready and Dean knew that it was too soon, however much it killed him not to chase it down.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” Cas suggested.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed right away and they moved away from each other to lie side by side.

Outside on the couch Sam was answering messages from different hunters and watching the TV on a low volume, smiling whenever he got a message from Eileen. He would then look to the bedroom guiltily; he didn’t know why he couldn’t tell his brother about her – she was just another hunter – but he knew she made him feel things he hadn’t in a long time, ever since this was his own apartment.

His smile fell and he had to take a deep breath, trying to swallow feelings of anxious and powerlessness that only lead to one place – that alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might take a bit longer to put up the next part of this; it's currently hand written in across 4 notebooks, and it's not finished. So, I have to type it up, finish it, and edit it. Sorry! I hope it'll be worth it.


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